Today is the day.
I will no longer get my fix.
No doubt. No way.
Getting myself out of the mix.
I feel so free,
I am finally me.
Tired as hell,
Not feeling so well.
Distracting my brain,
Life is a strain.
Crawling out of my shirt.
One hit wouldn’t hurt.
Wait, stop! What are you thinking!!!
No drugs! No drinking!
Thinking of you…
What should I do???
Pacing a rut in the floor.
I head for the door.
Sitting in the car for an hour.
Fuck, I need a cold shower.
Water running over my head.
My mind full of dread.
Feeling so alone,
I go grab my phone.
Staring at the screen.
What would one hit really mean?
I call you, to talk me down,
But you’re gone, so in tears I drown.
One more call, now I feel like shit.
What could it hurt, I just need one hit.
One Regular Dad 
The pain in this poem is palpable.
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From a 4 year sober alcoholic, that just tore straight through me. Goosebumps. Great work again!
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Thanks. I got goosebumps righting it. Congrats on four years!
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Thank you, surprisingly I don’t miss it. Strange when its such a big part of your life for so long. I hope you don’t mind but I’ve shared this peice across a few platforms that I have my own mental health groups and mental health professionals on my support teams as moderators and admins. They’ll really enjoy it too. Thank you and please don’t stop writing!
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I don’t mind at all. I am glad it resonated and I won’t ever stop writing. I really appreciate the support.
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