This is a poem I wrote a few days before seeking treatment for a decade long and devastating opiate addiction in March of 2007. I plan to edit it and attempt to publish it, but not being poetic, writing much then, or having studied poetic meter or lyricism, I think it’s pretty good. And it’s my blog, right?  Sure it is Jon, sure it is.

I suffer numbly, feeling is my only opponent
carelessly I  waste my precious time
loosing each treasured moment
awaiting some guidance, an infectious sign,
a hint of how to have success in my life
Chemically, I’m frozen, a slave of some new kind
Actions are guided through no thought of mine
The mind wanders aimless, my hope’s hitched a ride
Yet my dreams seem to linger with nowhere to hide
They haunt me like lovers who’ve been pushed aside
Leaving their memories right by my side
Gripping reality of dreams and love lost
Regret is exposed, regret is my cost
A thousand days possess but one lonesome thought
As though they just occurred now, although they have not
My lose was deserved and it’s all that I’ve got
Reliving the past makes the future unreal
Yet facing the present has become such an ordeal
Watching the clock fly by like a bird
I beg it to stop – but it seems I’m unheard
Suppose it can see me, as I watch full of fear
If it finally gave up would my head become clear
Free from the stress of each minute. Each day. Each year
Could my mind still go forward if the minutes did not?
Would anyone care if I got it to stop?
Or would the world simply stare at the clock?
Does pain still exist when the minutes do not?
What then shall I waste when the time has all gone-
Would my worry subside – will my joy be prolonged?

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