Chemical Suicide

See author's note for further details on the inspiration for this piece.

Chemical Suicide 

By 

Carlos Lorenzo Estrada 

I wanna take a ride

On my chemical suicide 

A simple little prick 

Who cares if it makes me sick

Tighten the wire on my arm.

Find a vein to prod and harm.

Let go

Ride the flow

Watch God and the Devil 

playing checkers on a table

See Nature dance like Salome 

In a palace of martyrs on midsummer day

Emancipate my wretched soul

In a universal scream of lost control 

A Buddhist annihilation of Nirvana

On a sea of roses and belladonna 

Sing with the demons of my repression 

Wailing shards of glass reflection 

A nihilistic dream of frenzied fantasy

Devastating all the best parts of me

To become the universe in singular thought

Contract, erupt, in orgasmic fraught

I want to walk upside down 

Beneath the stars and reach of sound

Cast myself into the void of nothing

Kiss the angels and leave them blushing 

Dance on the head of a pin

Find absolution in all my sin

Feel karmic indulgence within this pain

Manifest infinity in drops of rain

To know that I exist 

In a fucked up world as this

I just wanna to ride

On my chemical suicide. 

Author's Note

In 1978 an uncle of mine passed away from a heroin overdose. I didn't know him very well and when I think of him it's only in this regard. He was found on a lawn chair with a plastic tube loosely wrapped around his arm on a summer day. His younger brother at the wake said that he is now probably kissing the angels. I found it a bit odd of a statement with all things considered and being a stern catholic boy. But growing up later in life I recognize the imperfections and frailties we are haunted with. We are not bad people for them, but simply human. Thank you for reading this poem and feel free to leave your thoughts on this poem.

Reviews

[Sam]

Wow!!!! This has me in complete and utter awe. This is beautifully written! I am an addict in recovery (almost 2 years clean!) and I have never related more to a piece of writing until now. This resonates deeply with me and I am quite simply at a loss for words. This is amazing. Keep up the amazing work!

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you Sam for you kindest of words. I truly appreciate it. This piece was inspired by an uncle who passed away in the late 1970's from a heroin overdose. He was found on a lawn chair with the thin rubber tube loosely wrapped around his arm. At his wake his younger brother, also an addict, said his brother is now kissing the angels. Addiction is hereditary in my family most suffer through it. From alcohol, sex, and drugs. I am manic depressive and because of my fear of addiction I refuse to take any medication. Writing has been my drug of choice finding comfort in the stories and poetry I write. You are truly such a brave person Sam. I hope you know that. For an addict it is difficult to ever admit and acknowledge they have a problem. I commend you for your recovery and the struggles you fight every day against this pernicious disease. I wish my uncles could have been as brave and strong as you.

[John the Baptist]

This cascade of images and rhymes (very well done) capture what a heroin rush might be like for a mainliner. It is said they are all trying to recapture that first rush, a goal doomed to failure. Of course, the lives of some are so traumatic, I can see what might tempt them to get some relief through drugs. Actually, that "orgasmic fraught" part might prove alluring to me.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you John for your thoughts on this poem. Though the sensation of the chemical high of heroin was described to me my uncle did note that what he said did not do justice to it. He mentioned feeling the blood moving in his body along with the hair growing. Each trip brought something new, but you are correct they were attempting to recapture that first high. Many in my family suffer some form of addiction whether alcohol or drugs. I myself am manic depressive but I have refused any type of medication for it because of my fears of addiction. I just don't want to go down that road. Thank you again for sharing your thoughts.

[John the Baptist]

I respect your judgment, Carlos, but be careful. Bipolar disorder is one dangerous sucker.

[lightsong]

beyond amazing! brilliantly outstanding! one will swear that YOU are the addict! very powerful, You haunted profoundly, entirely every bit and corner and feeling and thought of the whole situation, You gave us the joy and sheer ecstasy of it as well the desperation and great pain of it! your expressions are totally stunning, well done my friend!

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you so much for your thoughts on this poem. Many members of my family have struggled with addiction. Whether it was drugs or alcohol it always seemed to permeate many of my relatives lives in one form or another. I remember the conversation I had with one of my uncles after the overdose death f his brother. I asked him what was the allurement of drugs? And he looked at me as if I had made an offensive remark toward religion. He said I would never understand until I took the chance to discover it for myself. He went on describing how heroin is a religious experience unto itself. Several of the examples he sighted are part of this poem. I was profoundly unsettled by his remarks to say the least. I was about 19 yrs old and it seemed he was advocating for me to try shooting up. In my entire life I have only tried weed 2 times and never taken any other kind of narcotics. I simply feel there is something inherent within me that would cause me to abuse these things. I wrote this poem reflecting back on the words of my uncle at his brother's death from an overdose. He said that his brother is now kissing the angels. That statement haunted me for all these years. Because it was not said out of sadness but a kind of jealous admiration and envy. Addiction does that to the human heart. Thank you so much again for your kind words.

[lightsong]

You are special! and outstanding among all your family from what I am getting, to be 19 and NOT be allured specially with those many people around You whom are addicted telling me how much of a wise and an aware being and brain You hold since that young sensitive age. be proud of yourself my friend~ and You are so welcome :>

[jacob erin-cilberto]

very profound piece...biographical I see, but universal....also attaches well to a poem that
Anne Sexton wrote called "Wanting to Die"---where she talks about how " even now, I have nothing against life" as if suicide were a curiosity for her, something she just wanted to "try out."
really good piece and yes, right now it is a "fucked up" World.
j.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

That is exactly what I seemed to feel from another uncle who was also addicted to hard drugs. As if the action of this self destructive act were noble in some way. With a sense of liberation and spiritual knowledge attained by his brushes with death in his over doses. I myself have never taken any hard drug and have only smoked weed twice in my life. Hearing him recount his many moments with a variety of drugs left me a bit unsettled. Especially since his older brother died of an overdose. Some of what he described I used on this poem while other things seemed too outlandish to even begin to put into words. He seemed to romanticize his drug addiction. Hinting that I could never truly know until I take the leap of faith and experience it for myself. I was 19 at the time and was months away from a break down. Had I made the choice to try heroin I have no doubt it would have killed me. Thank you J for sharing your thoughts on this poem. I really appreciate it.

[Laz K.]

I like the energy, the anger, the frustration, the explosion of words. I wonder if you speak from experience, or is it just poetic imagination. I also like your notes saying we are all flawed, and drug addicts (and other type of addicts) are not to be judged but understood. Addiction is always a sign of pain - not evil.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

That is so true Laz addiction is a sign of pain. I myself have never experienced any kind of narcotic or stimulant stronger that weed. And even with that I have only tried it 2 times in my life. Though growing up several of my uncles did take a wide range of drugs with one sharing his experience with heroin, pcp, cocaine, and several others. Some of his experience I used for this poem, while some just seemed too out there to even write down into words. The anger, frustration, and energy is exactly how he conveyed each thing he saw and felt in his hallucinations because to him they felt real. And there was a sense of nobility in his actions, as if he was unrepentive for his choices. To me it reflected an intense pain he was suffering through.