Tag Archives: addiction

ode to a dealer

the way he came to me. just would show up. from los angeles. in a gang. always wearing blue. he played pool like a peacock, strutting his feathers as if to draw attention to himself like a foolish man who didn’t know how to walk a high wire in circus act gone terribly wrong. i knew him right away, as one knows an old friend. only he wasn’t a friend at all. he was a dealer. but i knew. which would say what about me? and he kept coming again and again. knocking on my door. presenting himself as a gift. y’aint nothin’ but a motherfucking cockroach bitch. leave me alone. i would scream to walls as though a friendly spirit watcher was there to protect. there was never protecting…never a man on my roof humming sweet lullabies. only me. alone. sniffing, snorting, smoking. and i didn’t care. he did though. i was a consumer and he pried me open, capitalizing on my needs. and i needed. or wanted. sometimes i’m not sure. i cried when he stole my ’03 eclipse. i would yell at him. you look ridiculous driving my car. do you get hit on by many men? sometimes i’m surprised he didn’t kill me. threatened me enough. put a cold blade to my stomach once. and i told him to do it but he couldn’t. pussy. and the last night before leaving forever, he came one last time with a gift – you know the kind – and he asked if i had any regrets about him and i as if he was actually wishing that him and i were a we. i said yes. i wish you had a teacher like me.


“…just promise me that we’ll be alright…”

And you did and I did and we ended up alright. We won. We threw each other swords, turned our backs to each other and conquered those pesky goblins like heavenly, angelic warriors.

Thursday, February 17, 2005 7:38 AM

From a series of prose letters that I wrote to a fellow poet…

i demand right now to know what was in that syringe because i think you drugged me with your soul. my heart stopped as you pulled out half of mine and started when you shot up half of yours and now look at what’s happened. you think you almost killed me and i think you gave me life. the worst night of my life wasn’t the night you’re thinking of…the night i tore through my skin. the worst night of my life was the night you called me over to you and brought me in and i reached out and, with hand on your stomach, pushed you away and vehemently refused to look in your eyes. the way you sat there so alone and broken and the way i walked away. and i think i hate myself.

Cobalt Blue

cobalt blue is midnight shadow demons
swirling in sky
an illustrated print on wall coming alive
pointing, whispering
junkies calling dealers to score
needles, spoons, baggies, white crystals, powders
death knocking on your heart while Tom Waits sings you a lullaby

cobalt blue is a waiting game
shaking, paranoid, hearing voices from walls
FBI devices listening in, helicopters tailing you
plotting, conniving, cutting gas lines, feeling you up in your sleep,
creeping through ceiling
into and out of cracks in living room walls

cobalt blue is a secret vortex
visible to only you
a box customized into exact dimensions of hell
circumnavigating Saturn’s rings
pressure causing internal mini-implosions
seconds are minutes
minutes are hours
nose carpet-surfing for something
fingers between patterns
peeling back internal membranes of crimson Berber
soiled with your own red blood