A Junkie's Lament

[Jason Rimbaud]

A Junkie's Lament

By: Jason R.

 

In the small town of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania

A broken boy paced to and fro down a hallway

A thirty foot long hallway

He'd walk until he hit a wall

Turn

And then walk to the other wall

Over and over

He did this for what seemed like an eternity

 

His once long brown hair was cut short

Shorter than he could ever remember it being

It stuck out in every direction

Un-combed

Un-washed

Dark

 

He rubbed his hands over his scalp

Periodically

As he stalked up and down the hallway

Muttering softly to himself

 

As he paced back and forth

He'd stop each time he passed a certain door

And for a few seconds

He would stare at that closed door

Then he would mutter something

Yet resume his pacing a moment later

 

His gray eyes were red and glazed over

For numerous drugs ran through his system

Causing his hands to shake as he entered withdrawal

So badly the boy shook

He couldn't open his pack of cigarettes

To retrieve even that small source of comfort

 

Yet even as he walked

His mind raced

Questions shooting through his tattered mind

Like

"What the hell am I doing here?"

"I don't need anyone's help."

"Do I?"

"I can control my intake."

"Besides."

"I can't afford to take the time off work."

"I'm barely holding on to my job as it is."

 

Shaking his head

Clearing away the moment of clarity

He turned and headed towards the elevator

But in mid-step

He stopped

 

Even through the drug-induced fog

Memories came flooding back

Rising un-bidden

Un-wanted

He cried out in pain

And dropped to his knees

And screamed

 

Images of his fall from grace tortured him

There in the middle of the hallway

These feelings washed over him

Threatening to engulf him

To drown him

And he realized he was tired of living like this

 

His mind

Like an un-stoppable machine

Brought forth all that had happen

The long nights having sex for money

The stolen car stereo's and pawned TV's

Endless moments of living on his knee

Or his back

And just as if a fog lifted

He saw

Perhaps for the first time

The depths he had sunk

 

"I never meant to hurt anyone."

He screamed

Or tried too

Because in his weakened condition

It sounded like nothing more than a growl

Like he had devolved into something less than human

 

"How did I let this happened?"

When did I lose control of my life?"

Who is this person I see staring back at me?"

"This can't be me."

"Can it?"

 

He had lost weight

His once fit body now resembled a corpse

His eyes, lined with dark circles and lifeless

His ribs showed through his skin

And when he rubbed his scalp

His hair felt dry

Dry and dead

Just as he felt

"When did it all go wrong?"

 

"Nooooooooo."

This time it was a scream

And it lasted an eternity

 

That door opened

A tall man stepped out into the hall

His blue widened at the sight before him

For he saw a sick boy on his knees

Crying the pain only a junkie knows

 

He rushed to the boys side

"What's wrong, son?"

 

The boy looked up, through tears

"Everything is so messed up. I need help."

The man smiled warmly

"Then you've come to the right place."

 

The boy let the man haul him to his feet

Allowed the man to usher him into a room

And into a chair

A few moments later

A tall glass of water was shoved into his hand

The boy drank

Much like a man who was dying of thirst

 

The man watched the boy drink

Studying the boy with a calculating stare

He had noticed the boy pacing in the hall

And for forty-five minutes he watched patiently

Understanding the inner struggle raging inside the boy

Knowing unless the boy decided to enter the office

There was nothing he could do

But wait

 

And now

Finally

The wait was over

He could see it in the boy's eyes

The boy was through fighting

 

The man took the empty glass

Noticing the track marks on the boy's arms

He asked

"How long have you been using?"

Still looking at the floor

The boy said, almost in a whisper

"Forever."

 

Raising his eyes to meet the man's gaze

The boy wiped his tears

And said eight words

Probably the hardest eight words

He'd ever have to say

"My name's Jason. And I have a problem."

[Bondwriter]

I have thought about commenting your poems for a while. I love the little stories, that are rooted in some tough times for the narrator in them. Pain, sex, drugs, it's not all lilies and meadows. The pace and the rhythm in this one drive to this conclusion that opens on freedom. I'm not completely sure the shift in point of view at the end (The man watched the boy drink/ Studying the boy with a calculating stare/ He had noticed the boy pacing in the hall/ And for forty-five minutes he watched patiently) does not give it away a bit. Otherwise this is a pretty powerful poem. Another thing would be maybe to play with font and size a bit so it's slightly more appealing (my own little mania.)

[Jason Rimbaud]

I have thought about commenting your poems for a while. I love the little stories, that are rooted in some tough times for the narrator in them. Pain, sex, drugs, it's not all lilies and meadows. The pace and the rhythm in this one drive to this conclusion that opens on freedom. I'm not completely sure the shift in point of view at the end (The man watched the boy drink/ Studying the boy with a calculating stare/ He had noticed the boy pacing in the hall/ And for forty-five minutes he watched patiently) does not give it away a bit. Otherwise this is a pretty powerful poem. Another thing would be maybe to play with font and size a bit so it's slightly more appealing (my own little mania.)

 

 

I understand what you're saying about the change in narration, I struggled with this piece for a while. I wrote two different versions, one from each different point of view. One from the Jason character, and one from the doctor's point of view. I couldn't decide which one fit the mood I wanted to convey, so I kind of blended them together. The Doctor, a man I still talk to on a regular basis, once told me his side of that encounter. How he watched me struggle in that hallway, debating on whether or not to enter his office. The above section that you quoted, is his direct words, Basically they mean a lot to me, though maybe they don't belong in this piece.

 

Thanks for the comments, greatly appreciated.

 

Jason R.

[AFriendlyFace]

I understand what you're saying about the change in narration, I struggled with this piece for a while. I wrote two different versions, one from each different point of view. One from the Jason character, and one from the doctor's point of view. I couldn't decide which one fit the mood I wanted to convey, so I kind of blended them together. The Doctor, a man I still talk to on a regular basis, once told me his side of that encounter. How he watched me struggle in that hallway, debating on whether or not to enter his office. The above section that you quoted, is his direct words, Basically they mean a lot to me, though maybe they don't belong in this piece.

 

Thanks for the comments, greatly appreciated.

 

Jason R.

I think that they do.

 

That was an amazing poem, Jason! You took me off guard. I read most of it with interest and enjoyment, but without an overly emotional feeling, then the last section completely nailed me and brought tears to my eyes.

 

I found it extremely moving and powerful!

 

I actually found that the section from the doctor's POV added quite a bit to the poem and to my general appreciation and understanding of the situation.

 

Excellent piece! All around awesome in fact!

 

-Kevin

[SRevol]

Awesome 2/2, you have a new fan n_n

[AFriendlyFace]

Awesome 2/2, you have a new fan n_n

Jason has a ton of fantastic poems!