Junkie
I’m stuck
I’m fucked
I’m crushed under the rock bottom rock
I’m addicted
I’m conflicted
I’m committed
There’s one thing on my mind
Where’s my fix?
I’m bingeing
I’m hiding
I’m stealing
I’m lying
I’m cheating
The rest of the world can go to hell
I need to score
Where’s my fix?
I’m stuck
I don’t know who I really am
A spiritual wanderer?
More like a mindlessness junkie aching to be seen
A father?
More like a violent ego masquerading as love
A career person?
More like a hopeless slug waiting for a recognition that’s
never going to come of an empty success that’ll
never be
I’m stuck
Deep in the chasm
There’s no way out
I’m deep in the darkness
There’s no light to be found
My lover is my fix
There for a few seconds
Then leaves me in hate with myself
I’m a junkie
My fix is a fantasy about a past that never happened
My fix is an illusion of a present I always miss
My fix is a memory of a future of suffocating smoke and broken mirrors
My fix is a binge on food that imprisons my trials in a coma
My fix is a quick release that leaves me more stressed
Yeah, I’m a junkie
Don’t you fucking judge me, man
Don’t you fucking dare
Now you help me score
Or you best get to steppin’
Before it gets ugly.
I’m ugly
I’m stuck
I dedicate this poem to my light in my spiritual darkness and my anchor, Diala. I also dedicate it to two generous friends and mentors who read an earlier version of this work. Finally, this is for all my fellow spiritual wanderers wherever you may be.