Wish I was addicted to Love

The homeless, and addiction.

Wish I was addicted to Love

Life on the street, it’s not sweet.  Shivering and shaking hot sweats the aching inside unbearable sometimes to be alive.  Loneliness like no one knows, wishing someone would reach out and touch.  Searching now up and down the dark street, it’s all a blur but there’s no one there, I’m alone.  My stash of Special Brew numbs the pain.  But search as I may, I never can find peace of mind.  My life spiralling out of control, then I hit the pavement with such a blow.  Back on my feet where am I now? I find a corner and slump and maybe I’ll sleep.

 

The Eighteen stone boy who sits in the park munching his way through McDonalds, two quarter pounders then a Big Mac, a ton of chips and a shake.  He is searching for love and attention; he shuffles along stuffing his face.  Moves to a bench in the centre of town, just another Big Mac and a doughnut or two then he might not feel so blue.  As large as life, but no one seems to notice, is he the Invisible Man or just a joker.  His tears go unnoticed amongst the crushed Ice in the coke, maybe I am just a joke.  He just wants to fit in and belong, but he carries on munching coz that’s the only thing that makes him feel alive, for now anyway, inside.

 

The housewife, who wakes at three, creeps down for a cup of tea and a ciggie.  Thoughts in her head rushing through like a train, scrambling her brain, baggage she carries with her daily.  She up again at seven, feeling now like the thoughts have dragged her to her knees.  Cup of tea and a ciggie, taking a long lasting drag, like life depends on it, warming her insides and making  her feel alive.  One more ciggie and I’ll make a move wash up maybe clean the floor.  There again, maybe not it’s such a bore.  She wants to fit in somewhere in all the madness, but feels a constant mess, like she s been dragged through a hedge backwards.

 

These addictions and most of us have one?  Looking back it’s hard to know when it begun.  They cloud our vision, were missing so much, life loses it sparkle and colour, it’s like everything is in black and white.  All we need to do is open our eyes, let in the iridescent light let it shine through and maybe things will come right.  If we glance in the right direction they will know we are there, they will see and feel our despair.  Stop, look, listen to the inner voice; reach out to the hand that beckons us offering love and trust. Making the most of this life so precious, don’t let’s waste time or energy on what has been.  Take Gods hand and walk his path immerge from the dark and love will flow as we begin to grow......

Reviews

[R J Askew]

How right you are. Our vision is clouded by materialism and cheap hedonistic hits. There is just too much of everything. We are overwhelmed. A ciggie, a pint, a snort ... a new Merc, another bathroom or three ... There has to be a better way. As you so rightly say.

[Patrick]

A really thoought piece of writing that confronts what needs to be confronted.

[Cathy Wattam]

Some interesting thoughts here. These thoughts could be expanded into a short story. Keep up the good writing.

[Mary]

Profound and well written free form. We all have our own stash to fill those empty spaces in our hearts, while Love waits patiently for our heling to begin.

[Eagle Cruagh]

You speak to the issue at hand.
"This is the issue which besets man.
Who among us would deny --- being
loved by someone is paramont to riches.
Nothing, not all the gold is equal to one
day of being loved.
Then, having been loved the next most
desirable thing is being able to love another.
That is the world.
---- John

[$êlvån]

Hats off...it goes into my library:)