Needle Point Lullaby

It's been over 2 and half years since I've touched this blog. I've come close a few times but I was utterly uninterested in looking at it. Somehow, I made it through almost 30 days of what I called sobriety. I know now that what I experienced was nothing close the word. Instead, I'm going to call it one of my half-assed attempts at staying clean. I wasn't ready for what true sobriety really meant and had no concept of how it could completely change me in the places I needed renovation. Honestly, I vaguely remember this time in my life. All I really remember is how I let that needle find its way back into my skin the day after I posted my last entry. I met another useless face on some dating site and I must of had the words "PLEASE RELIEVE ME" written somewhere in the about me section because he did. His name was Johnny and he was more than I expected. I could smell his active addiction and I craved it. I closed my eyes and begged dark wolf to show me his strength. I spent 3 days with him.. 3 drug induced days fancying some of the seediness 82nd motels Portland has to offer. I thought I could love him. We talked about moving to Tennessee. He would work, I would stay home and cook.. and we'd stay high forever. I didn't even know how to cook. But I could learn. I wasn't terribly surprised when our game of make-believe ended just as quick as it came. It was nice but nothing like the warm rush we were really there for. I wanted to believe him but how could I believe in a future with a man I just met off Mocospace earlier that day? Let alone a man with drug problem worse than mine who had my clothes off in about 25 minutes. I knew better but it was nice to play jump rope with the idea that he'd take me away from myself. Even if it was to Tennessee.. I wonder if he even knew someone there. Anyway, I was fluent in the unspoken language of exchange. You're either a woman who knows about it or one who doesn't. I called it, "being resourceful." As much as I'd like to call it something else, I knew why I was there. I remember seeing all the old metal spoons behind the front desk.. the used spoons people left behind. I remember I was disgusted but my judgement stopped there as I took one like the tradition it must of become. I wasn't better than any of those spoons or the blackened residue that covered them. My disease took me to some of the darkest corners you can imagine and this was one. I can remember sitting in places so grotesque that I too felt grotesque. I always questioned why I never left. But I liked knowing about the secrets of the city.. I knew what could happen when the moon said hello. Sometimes I'd sit and stare at her from the trap house or through the back seat window.. And I wondered what she thought of me or if she ever did. 
My brief moment of infatuation with this guy floated away when I took a shot that was just too much even for the girl that always cries for more. The curtains started dancing and the room swirled around. My eyes wouldn't focus and 2 stepped in all directions.. probably frantically searching for a reason for how I could be this reckless. My breathing slowed then quickened then slowed then quickened. My fear catapulted through my self destruction and I knew I could die in the loneliness place I've ever been.. with a man I just met online.. in a place where they salvaged dirty spoons. My 22 year old story would become another secret on an ugly motel blanket. I looked at him.. I waited for him to respond. He was on his phone looking for girls to add to the party and I wanted to be anywhere else but here. I don't remember fighting. 
I went to treatment less than a week after this experience but left after I detoxed. Dark wolf was too aggressive to domesticate. I ended up back at the same motel with the same guy. I had experienced defeat and loss in the most personal way and didn't have much else to lose. We were both handicapped by the ball and chain of addiction and both declared ourselves as newly homeless. The day before I met back up with him, my locks were changed and I was no longer a part of my family. But I knew where to go and who to bring with me. Before then, I had no idea that the Value Inn motel could get more heart wrenching. I was 22 years old with an IV drug problem and an inability to make good decisions. It echoed throughout the halls and wrote itself on the walls until I breathed it in as truth. By the time he met me in my room, I couldn't speak or raise my eyes off the floor. He said all the right things and I let myself hang on every word. I swallowed everything I knew wasn't true and handed over my independence because I knew all I was capable of was paving sidewalks for fresh mistakes. I rested in the thought that we could do this together. He became my new salvation. The next day, circumstances separated us. It would be about 5 months before I saw him again. This is my experience in that motel with Johnny and dark wolf..

He sang sweet songs, sweet needle point lullabies

His eyes were crystalized, their awestruck blackness ate me whole

I stayed mesmerized by his carelessness and smooth complexion

He spit ease and promised comfort

His perversions helped to define me

He fed off the helpless story my eyes told

Like a rat chewing holes in already worn socks

The deeper the needle dug, the closer we became

2 more strangers brought together by a spoonful of pretty crystal flakes,

Praying for something better

The dope trampled through our veins, fusing us together

I take the shot and let it break me to pieces

I become fragments, collaged together to make one unnecessary disaster

I am legs. I am eyes. I am lips. I am warmth. I am sultry. I am body language.

I am delirium. I am carelessness.

I am 37 flavors of wreckage

I am the thrust in his hips and the look in his eyes. I am property.

I am the dope sack and the remains left behind

I am just weight on the mattress

I am another girl on another motel bathroom floor

I am the holes in my arms

I am confined, super glued to a picture of a drug addicted whore

Yet, I still believe I am endless

I stay paralyzed in this moment, in my fear of a better way

In this ecstasy

I stay paralyzed in my regrets, in my remembrance of all things lost

In all the moments I lost my control in an empty dope bag

It wraps around me like lights on Christmas tree

My bad decisions and remorse surround me

In a cheap motel room with broken windows and a broken tv

It breathes in my heartbreak and exhales my defeat

I am alone but my broken parts fit right in

The sticky windows separate us from daily life

This is a place of isolation, not escape

The morning sun doesn’t shine on us

We’re just chasing after freedom in the wrong place,

Singing our needle point lullaby.