Written for my Poetry Workshop this past fall (assignment was due 9.10.14).
Addiction said We’re fated to be together.
Tobacco leaves wind themselves around Thymine
and compete for space with the coca leaves
curling around Cytosine in the next base pair.
Papaver somniferum blooms within Guanine
and the poppy roots itself within the deoxyribose backbone.
Adenine bedazzles the eye with neon pills
spilling out of its double rings that can
take you up, down, wherever your rabbit-hole goes
so your fears and worries are content to sip tea
with you instead of breathing down your neck.
A with T, C with G, and just a sip of alcohol (of your choice)
to ease the bonds that hold them together,
to keep them from falling apart into
a disheveled mess of I’m in control (I can stop).
I’ve inherited the coy dance of a substance
whispering how good we’d be together,
her lips to my neck with the slightest of pressure,
and it’s only whispers –
in the dark corner of regret and emotional avoidance
and the bone-deep familiar desire to escape,
we only whisper I’m in control.
This can be found here (deviantART post). I alluded to this poem elsewhere where I talked about the basic premise: I have an inherited predisposition to addiction. I know this doesn’t mean I’m just one moment away from being an addict and I can never ingest anything remotely addictive ever, but there’s something about the idea I sort of tried to grasp here that I’ve only ever approached in fleeting poetical ways.
I’ve been particularly careful about alcohol consumption for a variety of reasons, but the one I want to flesh out here is this feeling that Someone is involved. Not a Deity, not Someone with an Established Name and pantheon, more like a Spirit Who acts as the overall Guardian of something (in this case alcohol). The spirit seems to present femininely (ish, non-corporeal beings can present however They like), and there’s a flirtatious feeling.
I have never received an indication that I should 100% avoid alcohol. It’s mostly been a matter of the variety of other reasons meaning I need to have clear personal boundaries (no emotional numbing or emotional avoidance, do not feed the brainweasels, etc.) that provide limits. These steps should curb often seen reasons for people to grow dependent on alcohol and keep a certain level of respect around drinking.
I think – She – has dropped by and hinted at being here (such as through this poem) to see how well I can stick to my boundaries and limits (and to reveal what said boundaries and limits have to be in order to have a non-addictive relationship with drinking). ((To keep the commentary on this poem from getting really long, I’ve split off the stuff that’s very specifically about this Spirit into a separate post.))