Showing posts from June, 2017

Burning Away

I smelled the alcohol on your breath before I felt the whiskers that brushed my check as you said goodbye. I wanted to wave to you. These occasions don't require me to do anything but stare straight ahead and pretend my heart isn't breaking. Are you stopping at the next station, getting off to buy some (more) dope? Will you make it home tonight, using vodka and grape juice to stave off the last bit of sick left from five days of twitching and turning on sheets soaked with sweat. A week ago, when I unconsciously smelled your neck, it smelled like vinegar must taste when it runs through your veins and out through your pores. I loved you that day, the day you chose drugs over me. Not with any subtle motion, just the daily actions of a junkie propelled forward by the depleted emotional battery searching for a charge of life in the form of a hit. I still love you- with the slight hesitation of being attached to a shinning star that is quickly burning away. As I head in the opposit


I'm lying on my bed under three different types of blankets. The window is slightly open so the sea breeze can creep across my exposed ankles. I feel nothing. I feel everything. At the same time. I am not sure why my life feels so empty when you arent around. There is a whole, as large as my imagination, picturing you here with me. There is a burning in my brain. It stings with the memory of what it would feel like to have you inside of me. You aren't a lover. You are my drug. I love you despite your abuse. I can't quit you.  I can't go on with you.  I can't go on without you.  Taste the blood.  I bite my tongue in desperation.  Switching from side to side to side.  I cry inside my pillow. Kicking you one more time. 

The Responsible Junkie and Other Minor Irritations

Shooting heroin sucks. Not shooting heroin sucks. There is this huge myth that getting off drugs is the solution to all of your problems. HAHA. Not even fucking close. Getting off drugs is a solution to a subset of your problems. When you quit opioids, it might fix your orgasm issues. You might be able to poop daily. You might not go to jail, get abscesses, overdose, a heart infection, or spend all over your money on little powders and pills. Getting off drugs does not make that girl/boy love you. It will not make people forgive you. It will not fix the fact that people are still peopley and somewhat scary. It won't fix your social anxiety. Don't hate me for telling the truth. It takes some work on your end. You know what else is work? Sucking dick while you are dopesick. Working a nine to five while supporting a habit. Remembering all the lies you have told. Missing family functions while you wait for the dealer who is eight hours late. Stealing from stores. Middlemanning f

It isn't a party until...

Is Kelan crying? It's not a kids' event 'til somebody cries.  No. Not this time. That isn't one of my children. The cries of my children are generally followed up with a second set of cries indicating one child has decided to violently charge the other to avenge whatever caused the first set of tears. My friend and I have dragged our lawn chairs closer to the field. We are pretending to watch the nine year old compete in this game of chance known as youth athletics. Mostly, we are happy to spend some time together. With jobs(mine) and relationships (his), we don't get to see each other that often. There is a certain comfort in having a friend that understands what it is like to shoot dope then try to transition into a "normal" life. His recent relapse has reminded me how fragile the line between sobriety and insanity is on a daily basis. The last time I saw him, he was high as fuck. I had to admit I was more than a little jealous at the time. It had bee

A Few Thoughts on the American Opioid Crisis

Normally, I use this space to post my stirring tales of addiction and recovery. Today's post is slightly different readers. I have been contacted by two different federal agencies in the past month about my opinions on what needs to be done to address the opioid crisis. This SHOULD be a good thing. But there is a catch. These clandestine contacts with me are indicative of a much larger problem. Policies and programs are currently being crafted at the national level with little to no input from former or current consumers of opioids. This is completely unacceptable.  If leaders in the field want to know what we need, we should be leading some of these conversations. Instead, advocates/former users like myself are essentially the side piece of policy leaders. You want me around in private. You just don't want to take the risk of being in public with us. When I make these posts on reddit or my personal blog, decision makers are reading them. They want to know what we are thinkin

A lifeline

This is some long form material I am working on for a new book in a very raw form... Also thank you for all the birthday wishes! There is a moment in every day when we chose to succumb to the incredible mystery that is life without drugs or inflict self injury in the form resistance against our truths. I don’t know if I was born with the desire to use drugs. I don’t know if I evolved into an individual that needed solace in the chemical expression of happiness. I just know that once I began ingesting them, my life changed forever. I can never put the cork back in the bottle. I can never unsee the horrors unveiled in the life of drug user living on the streets of any major city. I can only strive to find a way to balance the past, the present, and plan for a future I want to live in. “Why didn’t you meet me for lunch that day?” I asked.  I push my food around on the plate. There is always an awkward moment when I first meet people when I am not sure who they think I am. Am I an