Numb

the descent starts now,
the addict says when he
wants to blame everyone
but himself...

this is the pattern,
and he wonders why
clapping feels like
razor blades cutting
everything from scalp
to sole...

and this still isn't the end,
because he's hit bottom but
he realizes that the numbers
behind zero are on an
infinite line too...

and the rest of his life
feels infinitely long even
though it's still angstroms
and Planck lengths shorter
than the emotion he feels...

does he seek redemption
or goes the way of the guy
in Leaving Las Vegas?

time marches on still as
he tries to recover from
his last failure, and it
appears he marks time
by every blunder he makes...

it's only a matter of time
before he crashes the jet
called his life yet again...

the circle of life but not
the one Mufasa taught
Simba about...

and that shape appears in
the commode as the lever
is pressed, spiraling and
spiraling until the bottom
is reached...

and for some addicts,
only busting the mortal coil
will achieve that end...

a cliche, because repetitive
tragedies just numb so many
after the fact...

time's up, the squirrel attention
span demands to see something
shiny and new

Reviews

[Michael Sun Bear]

Well I have to say this is one of the more interesting, quite curious pieces of poetry I have read dealing with addiction. For sure I’ve never seen angstroms and Planck lengths nor Leaving Las Vegas incorporated into any poetry. And I am a science and a movie geek. I am an addict. There is much truth in your poem but for me it lacks the immediacy of addiction, feels like someone observing addiction rather than suffering addiction. Do you mind my asking your inspiration for this? If interested, I have written and posted here a fair amount of poetry dealing first hand with the subject. Thank you for contributing.

[Kenneth The Poet]

Thanks for the review. I'm glad you like it.