Here is another fabulous poem from Joseph Emerson’s What’s Inside a Madman’s Hat blog. I chose to reblog this one because it has a very powerful and important message. I agree with his message that an addiction is an addiction whether it is prescribed by a doctor or bought on the streets.
A small, gram bag of clarity
I had purchased from a stranger,
gambled on her claim of its purity
a clear and present danger.
A time in my life, I still wouldn’t regret
during which many brain cells were destroyed,
a time of learning and hard taught lessons
I have now rendered, null and void.
Feeling so cloudy I felt the need to use
a substance to unclutter all the shit,
nothing that I’d like to boast about
the amount, I would plainly not admit.
Please, don’t get all righteous on me
and act like you’re any better than I,
for it’s no different than a lonely housewife
chugging a glass, then a bottle of wine!
At least I never got married with children
performing a phony financial and social status,
and I’ll never feel that gut-wrenching guilt
from, drunk-driving my kids to soccer practice.
Same as clean cut, class mom, “Little…
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My Loud Whispers of Hope 