written the night i decided i needed to quit

heavy as the moon
goodbye silver dollar
luck charm of my youth
it is a good day
to part ways

a moth
bigger than
my little girl’s hand
flittering

no more no more
my last night
celebrating
darkness

goodbye silver dollar
orange plastic
cat in a pocket
fifteen years
of idol worship

anything to numb
the mind fuck
heartache

i am sorry
and i am sorry
and i am sorry
doesn’t cut it

a silver dollar
can be sharp as a scalpel
heavy as the moon
always in my pocket

so tomorrow
there is no more


I wrote this stoned with a frozen margarita in hand.  It wasn’t the first time I tried to quit, wanted to quit.  But it was the day I knew I needed to.  It took a while longer to crack, to discover I wasn’t going to be able to do it myself.

I had this stupid idea in my head I wanted my last time to be fun.  I had an enjoyable evening writing this.  No, my last time had to be miserable.  And I have to remember that.  It wasn’t fun.  It was a panic attack.  At 8:30 on a Monday morning.  And I was down and done.  But here is my ode to quitting.

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
This entry was posted in addiction, creative writing, poetry, recovery and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to written the night i decided i needed to quit

  1. Pingback: Top 14 of 2014 | stories of survival

  2. Pingback: 1996-2016: A Sample of 20 Years | the liminal life of m

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