Tactile Tuesday [words you can touch]: Addiction
They say addiction is a ship that floats the crystalline-studded seas but without a working engine.
It kicks, it sputters, but in the end only ever drifts,
further and further away
until most of us can’t recognize the horizon it sits upon any longer.
It all starts because of a broken valve,
a miscommunication from the top down—
someone should have been there.
But they weren’t.
Yes, addiction is a wayward ship that got its maiden start because of a broken relationship.
Go ahead and try that on anything you think you can’t live without.
Who was it that said you needed it anyway?
And where are they today?
Not that love and family relationships are fully like math equations,
but when something in the order of our relational operations goes removed,
or worst of all: forgotten
time and time again,
people turn a hundred and eighty degrees back to the only thing for which they have their own set of keys.
Oh, it may not be good but at least it knows my name.
It is a familiar face that makes us forget our own faces,
[I said] it is a familiar face that makes us forget our own faces.
Who we are, where we’ve been, where we’re going.
The will and desire couldn’t do more than dance in clouds of sober postulation,
no, not as long as we can touch with limbs that can quench itches,
burnings, cravings that drip with poison like sugar inside;
nor as long as we can see with golden outstretched telescopes that single,
tiny train-ride toward resolution:
a blackened emotional asphyxiation.
It’s always easy to slide, but even sliding gets tiring.
Getting up to walk again gets only that much harder.