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Freebase Hell, by Jennifer Lee Pryor 1980

The way you made love to me
was a shame and a disgrace.
Your ice cold heart chilled my soul.
Your woman is Freebase.

Your lungs are like a graveyard, they sound like it too.
A dark and hollow dungeon with the wind blowin' through.
No love in sight, bones rattling, ghosts battling.
Who haunts tonight?

A power hungry obsession,
A gun-toting hession,
A coward when riled,
with a highwire style.

You hold the pipe so tenderly,
I wish he'd do the same for me.
Why do I love you,
my destiny?

My heart beats a rhythm I've never, ever felt.

copyright Jennifer Lee Pryor

Jennifer,

A place that leads you nowhwere, but in still holds profound.

It leaves you wishing for its voice, and scared of every sound.

It will never let you find, what you (or it) was meant for,
until you break away.

The damage knows the truth for all those that play.


wow.:-!,..:-.

astonamous,
like that.

dumbass,
Fair to say he was stunned and pissed!
Then and now.

Jennifer,

I can't even begin to imagine... but I think you've put me in the ballpark. That's beautiful, vivid work there.

Looking forward to reading more of yours and rest of the cats in these parts. Good job, everybody.

- Jaye

Jennifer,

I don't know how to spell "ooohwwhhh"!

Vee

Jennifer,
probably really late to reply to this thread but you're words are stunning, my father was in a similar place in the summer of 1980 and hurt people, made them angry, but at the end of it all i feel all those who make that initial mistake are fools only once, from then on they are not themselves and cannot be held too accountable, its easy to be blinded by something that tells you it is stronger than you (even though it is lying).
Sorry to rant on i just have a lot of pent up frustration on this subject

christopherj,
junkies are junkies...and we are left with a lot of pain and memory...
this poem is about my feelings and my experience...
go write a poem about your drug addiction...don't try and tell me about it---I know about it and understand it all to well...

Jennifer,
agreed...... to an extent, i wont claim to be more experienced than you in this field, my mother shielded myself and my brothers from a lot of it. I do believe though that it is an individual error that junkies are guilty of, now this is a huge deal, a major fuck up on their part, but from then on it is not something that all people can control, i myself went down the same route as my father (simply to try and understand him and what made him the way he was) i was smoking for about 6 months real hard, and at the end of it, it took an awful lot of energy and strength to walk away from it, but i did, and it has been several years since i stopped completely, now from my point of view i cant blame my father for being so foolish, he isnt as strong as me, and he never saw the end product of not being able to stop, wheras i grew up with it.
please dont think i am trying to lessen the responsibility a user has to accept, but i just feel that as it is classed as a disease it should be treated as one, and that the user is a victim as much as his or he family is. I dont agree with this bullshit theory of 'oh well he started taking it so its a self inflicted illness'. Bullshit in that case so are most cases of hiv and aids, these are self inflicted by people having unprotected sex, but you dont see people going round blaming individuals for that now do we
anyway, i hope you are ok and this mail finds you and richard in good stead,
regards
chris

Christopheri
disease---it is-but getting into treatment is the responsibility of the addict...he or she has got to want to get clean...no one can clean anybody up, try as we might...it is ultimately up to the user...obviously, you must understand this, since you got clean...
mazaltov...
BUT IN MY POEM, I AM ASSIGNING NO BLAME, I AM ADDRESSING MY FEELINGS...the junkie and the one who loves a junkie...i have spent years undersanding the disease, andfrankly it bores the shit out me--an incredibly selfish disease...so perhaps you should start a forum about your addiction elsewhere-this poem is about my feelings, not your disease.