A satirical poem of why, recovering, and addict, pressing wit, absurdity and refusal against the world.
January 26, 2004Early Notebooks
Why did the recovering addict cross the road?
To reach the other side, where dreams are stowed.
But you think that's it? You think it’s so clear?
Do you dare to know the darkness lurking near?
The path isn't straight, nor paved with gold,
it's jagged, uncertain, with secrets untold.
Crossing that road is more than a stroll—
it's wrestling with demons that swallow you whole.
The shadows creep in, the cravings persist,
the urge to turn back is hard to resist.
The "dark side" isn't just the other lane,
it's the voice that whispers to dive back into pain.
Cross that road, but don't be fooled—
self-development isn't a path for the ruled.
It’s stumbling forward, despite the pull,
it’s choosing the light when the night is full.
Do you dare to cross, to step into the fight?
To see the darkness, yet reach for the light?
Because on the other side, you might just find
the person you've been running from this whole time.
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