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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Educational · #1188418
A poem or gripe from the dead: an outlet for a recovering methamphetamine addict.
The Crystal Cadence

Waking back forward and up again, though far sustained from all clear,
And reality begins to percolate, dripping foul, molten honesty here.
I have walked to an absent rhythm again, dancing outside the line,
Dangling myself on puppeteer string, not knowing the hands are mine.

Forever, I’ve lost me, I’ve lost so much, and I’ve lost every trace of love.
I seem to have lost the very link I once held to Anyone above, but
If this goes through, I can barter one more, and everything will seem fine;
Rolling over and dodging a beat, thinking surely next time I’ll say “Nein!”


-Jeanne Sparks-Carreker
    November 9, 2006
© Copyright 2006 Jeanne Sparks-Carreker (h2o4thegaslit at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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