as all my healthy addictions
I imbibe
and imbibe
then imbibe some more
till passion of the thing’s bled white
texture transparent
tasteless to the soul
its relevance
my reverence
becomes yesterday’s flavor
need turns to nausea
and I’m back where the circle began
with a full but empty hand
all my loves
have been this way
though in some cases
distance does make the heart grow
deeper in its natural color
Chris, what a stark and strong way speak of this very tough subject. You describe well the drain and damage of addiction. I relate. I'm just glad I have lived long enough to move beyond and deeper. Thanks for the gift of this powerful poem.
