Jareb

It’s not so much that I’m running from my past.  I just need a clean break.  The drugs were taking their toll.  I’m trying the church thing.  High on Christ, isn’t that what they say.  So far, I’m not feeling it.  What I am feeling are the cold evenings.  I’m not feeling the warmth of H filling my throbbing veins.  I’m not feeling my lungs relax after deeply inhaling a potent smoke.  I’m not feeling the heat of a naked woman, hours after she happened to snort beside me.  But the trembling, the lost memories, the doubting myself. Something had to give. So now, I keep my nicotine close.  I go to church each time the doors open.  I pray for release, and I rub my aching veins.

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