Whistling Past the Graveyard
by
Nicholas L. Alexander
A dull ache becomes masked by a generous shot. More and more opium pours into her trampled vein. Her heartbeat slows down, the mania creeps in, and she loses a piece of herself. As she’s drowning her past sorrows, the beats keep up with the pain. It’s easier this way; facing dark secrets just seems to leave a stain. Now her fate is placed in the hands of a diluted substance because pleasure seeking has commenced. Full of euphoria, yet still discontent, she falls back into a lifeless mimic. A single tear fills up her eye and sends her to the other side. Death has not yet come, but she is now on one hell of a ride. Her deepest fears of reality come flooding back as she starts to wake up.
That single shot seemed to hold all of her fate. But her stash has now run bare, and the tyrant is near ready to hand out sins just as he hands out death cards. Her sickness now runs deep, but her needy soul awaits a treat. Too many times she has danced with the devil in the moon. Yet she insists on playing the reaper, believing death will come soon. Her sad eyes cock back ready to catch a nod, but then nothing is felt. But a fake burn is she has been dealt. She sweats as sickness creeps in. This cycle of Russian roulette cannot go on, it just cannot win. No more faking she determines, her time is now and she plans a rebirth.
True horror is seeking a way to die. She constantly lets pain in, which helps with the brain fry and soul cry. An exorcism may be needed because she has been so depleted. Far too many times devilish ways were once needed. Like a wick to a flame she burns to live. There is no more letting this need hold her captive. She now seems to ache with a desire to be free, clear from all the terror that has always been near. So many tears were shed in the wake of her new reality, but the animal inside has now been set free. Believing in the here and now gives off an essence of hope, and all the strangeness will now let her be. Knowing nothing but bad news, however, there is always that worry that most will turn to run towards that old numbing feeling a drug deal possesses.
A distance sits between her and the dread that once filled her relentless past, though. Robbing, lying, and cheating were her vicious ways of engaging with the demons that surrounded her. Real life allies currently complete her conscious spirit and mind. They fought off the antagonist dictator and enemy by letting spirituality take her to a superior place. The mask is now taken off; she can now face the old mimic in the mirror and shatter it. That door is shut now. And her strength gives her the ability to show praise to those who helped her that dark bleak day. Her winning psyche now gives her the strength she needs to no longer be afraid.
BIO - My name is Nicholas L. Alexander, and I am from NE, Ohio. I am 32 years old, and have been through many years of drug/alcohol addiction. I have outlived the addiction, but have lost many great friends along the way; I’ve experienced life from a more wicked perspective. And, even though this affliction has affected me in so many negative ways, it has risen me through the ashes. I am currently a student majoring is creative writing, and I hope to be a professional writer one day. I want to write as much as I can about the horrors of addiction, and the life it leads so many down.
Edited by Basma Amer
by
Nicholas L. Alexander
A dull ache becomes masked by a generous shot. More and more opium pours into her trampled vein. Her heartbeat slows down, the mania creeps in, and she loses a piece of herself. As she’s drowning her past sorrows, the beats keep up with the pain. It’s easier this way; facing dark secrets just seems to leave a stain. Now her fate is placed in the hands of a diluted substance because pleasure seeking has commenced. Full of euphoria, yet still discontent, she falls back into a lifeless mimic. A single tear fills up her eye and sends her to the other side. Death has not yet come, but she is now on one hell of a ride. Her deepest fears of reality come flooding back as she starts to wake up.
That single shot seemed to hold all of her fate. But her stash has now run bare, and the tyrant is near ready to hand out sins just as he hands out death cards. Her sickness now runs deep, but her needy soul awaits a treat. Too many times she has danced with the devil in the moon. Yet she insists on playing the reaper, believing death will come soon. Her sad eyes cock back ready to catch a nod, but then nothing is felt. But a fake burn is she has been dealt. She sweats as sickness creeps in. This cycle of Russian roulette cannot go on, it just cannot win. No more faking she determines, her time is now and she plans a rebirth.
True horror is seeking a way to die. She constantly lets pain in, which helps with the brain fry and soul cry. An exorcism may be needed because she has been so depleted. Far too many times devilish ways were once needed. Like a wick to a flame she burns to live. There is no more letting this need hold her captive. She now seems to ache with a desire to be free, clear from all the terror that has always been near. So many tears were shed in the wake of her new reality, but the animal inside has now been set free. Believing in the here and now gives off an essence of hope, and all the strangeness will now let her be. Knowing nothing but bad news, however, there is always that worry that most will turn to run towards that old numbing feeling a drug deal possesses.
A distance sits between her and the dread that once filled her relentless past, though. Robbing, lying, and cheating were her vicious ways of engaging with the demons that surrounded her. Real life allies currently complete her conscious spirit and mind. They fought off the antagonist dictator and enemy by letting spirituality take her to a superior place. The mask is now taken off; she can now face the old mimic in the mirror and shatter it. That door is shut now. And her strength gives her the ability to show praise to those who helped her that dark bleak day. Her winning psyche now gives her the strength she needs to no longer be afraid.
BIO - My name is Nicholas L. Alexander, and I am from NE, Ohio. I am 32 years old, and have been through many years of drug/alcohol addiction. I have outlived the addiction, but have lost many great friends along the way; I’ve experienced life from a more wicked perspective. And, even though this affliction has affected me in so many negative ways, it has risen me through the ashes. I am currently a student majoring is creative writing, and I hope to be a professional writer one day. I want to write as much as I can about the horrors of addiction, and the life it leads so many down.
Edited by Basma Amer
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