Portrait of a senseless tragedy (Fatal Addiction)


    Tortured souls and darkened hearts, hardened by the atrocities the eyes have looked upon with casual indifference for so long. Beauty seems lost to the sensibilities of the spiritually barren beings whose sole purpose is to keep kindled a meaningless existence. The potential damned and the inherent beauty never realized is the tragedy of reality when the perception becomes one of complete absence of self worth.

   Was it really so long ago when things were much different? When the path that led to this dark place was not so overwhelmingly present? When exquisite grace and soft sensibilities could still be glimpsed in the mirror?  In remembering those times it seems like just yesterday, but somehow, as things have become excruciatingly evident, also seems like a million years have passed since that time of carefree innocence, and the signs of things to come were not so foreboding.

   This must serve as a constant reminder that far too often the other cheek is turned away from the horrific truths and the worlds sons and  daughters are left to join the ranks of the walking dead, as the flame that is their spirit and will to survive flickers in the breeze and is finally extinguished by the cruel hand of fate.


12 responses to “Portrait of a senseless tragedy (Fatal Addiction)

    • This piece is actually borrowed from real life. I wrote this while reminiscing about a dear childhood friend that lost her battle with addiction in our early twenties. A battle I was fortunate enough to win, although I never danced with the dragon as she did. I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I still have no idea where the words came from. Very dark indeed, but probably one of my most prized pieces. May God bless Sarah’s soul.

      • And THIS is why I love the blogosphere so much — the chance to learn the story behind the story. Knowing the history gives this piece much more depth in an entirely different perspective. Thank you for sharing that!!!

      • No problem, If anybody comments or asks, they will get the truth, otherwise it is open to individual interpretation. As dark as it is………I knew my friend when futures seemed bright, and saw her just days before her passing. I was actually in rehab when I heard she was gone. It really fucked with my head for a long time. The things I have seen and experienced through life’s journey have not always been easy, but have made me who I am today. For that I am grateful. Writing is a very therapeutic and fulfilling endeavor, as amateur as it is, I am proud of it.

      • Well, if you are an amateur, then I am a mere newbie! I am learning to let the words flow as a release of emotion for me, but I still have a very strong desire to hide behind my words.

      • Okay maybe we are both a bit better than we let on due to humility. As I find you to be in NO WAY a newbie. You tell an erotic tale with style and ease.
        Incredible. My words sometimes hide my true intentions, but maybe that is just a device to let the reader impose their own meanings? Hope so.

    • Wow, Elizabeth. I have no words. That is probably the most meaningful poem I have ever written. And so spooky that you would pick July and see that particular poem given our shared demons.

      That piece was written (to this day I know not who held the pen/did the typing) one night when I was reminded suddenly of a very close childhood friend. She was my partying soulmate for a while til we lost touch. The last time I saw her was a week before I was brought to rehab in a very unfortunate situation. She passed away of an overdose (Heroin) while I was doing a 30 day resident rehab. I have been clean and sober ever since. She has been gone ever since but frequently comes to visit in my head. I wrote this through blinded crying eyes. Still have no idea where the words come from.

      Anyway, It amazes me that in times of weakness we are taken to see the things that will help us survive if we only listen and observe. I am so glad you found this heavy but important piece.

      • Wow… That’s intense my friend. Powerful, crazy, otherworldly intense… For lack of adjectives! It’s awesome. Blinded, crying eyes can deliver amazing, uninhibited, genuine emotions (again with the excessive adjectives- my brain is on fire!)… Sorry about your friend. Creepy to think that may have been you without intervention. Glad you are still here – and producing such powerful pieces. And helping me! Lol- cause it’s all about me! Damn self-centered drunk that I am! 🙂

      • LOL, we are all self centered in our disease. Helping others is what sets us apart. I will always do that for you if I can my friend. And you are right. It very well could have been (actually was) me. I actually have been clinically dead for a short time. But that is a story for another day. I never played with needles or danced with the dragon, but I was no less self destructive. I still feel guilt sometimes like it should have been her that was saved. When I saw her prior to my rehab, we all knew she was in really bad shape. It really fucked with my head for years, but I have come to accept what happened. So if that piece has even the smallest part in helping anybody, than I now think I have a pretty good idea who was holding the pen/typing those words. Thank you Sarah. May you rest in peace.

  1. Perhaps some day. It probably has been covered ever so cryptically in my writings from time to time. I never mean to speak of it, but I know my past is woven all throughout my words. As poets, that is how we thrive.

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