A Little Help from my Friends

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The following post was not easy to write… before the emails and comments start I have to say that I am alright… I won’t be accepting comments on this particular post… Read it for what it is… A deeply personal piece of art… Enjoy… plant petunias and question everything – chriscondello This work is licensed […]

Scribbles from the Mind of a Struggling Soul

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“Sucked Dry” – © chriscondello 2013 – Frick Park – Pittsburgh, PA

Before you read this… Allow me to add a bit of context… These poems were scribbled on whatever I could find over the past week… When I work… I meditate… Although meditation usually takes me to a good place… It doesn’t always…

This week has been filled with triggers… And I have been emotionally struggling… But I am ok… I am stable… I am writing…

Higher Power

Staring through the waves of light…
Energy from the heavens…
Power from the mighty earth…
The source of my confidence…
The creator of me…
My higher power…
Apparently has no power…

Let it go…

Confidence lacking… Earth shattering…
Life scattered around me…
No idea where I’m going… No clue where I’m at…
I need to let it go…

Hunting for a dream… A direction…
Constantly avoiding my own reflection…
My back hurts from all this baggage…
I need to let it go…

Meditation reflects harmony and peace…
Hate absorbs hate… Anger attracts anger…
Bottled up… Ready for market…
I need to let it go…

My past dreams amount to cons and schemes…
Just another sad drug addict theme…
Spirit like Swiss cheese… Soul like a fallen tree…
I need to let it go…

Carrying the weight of my world around…
Thoughts simply add to my load…
I need to let it flow… I need to let it blow…
I need to let it all go…

Away…

Searching for a direction…

Every street looks the same…
Every fucking sign says stop…
Every corner I turn…
I see a fucking cop…
Standing here on the corner…
Surrounded by used needles and empty bags…
Shaking… Scared… But surprisingly strong…
I know what people expect…
Fuck… They tell me all the time…
They think I’m still a user… Loser…
A worthless drug abuser…
Let’s get something straight…
I don’t care about you… The haters…
You’ve left me no choice…
And this choice is mine…
I may not have a worldly direction… Yet…
I’m definitely not like you…
And I really don’t like you…
Though I can be kind…
I will never be your kind…

Thankfully…

plant petunias and question everything – chriscondello

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Big Budget Bully – 1984

11x14" - Acrylic on Canvas

11×14″ – Acrylic on Canvas

I can’t do this shit anymore…
Life was easier on drugs…
Now I perpetually handle…
Finger pointing thugs…

My mental state is stronger…
Than it has been in years…
It doesn’t mean a thing…
It doesn’t lower fears…

A big budget bully…
Pokes me through a fence…
Calling me a loser…
Telling me there’s no chance…

Digging out my heart…
With your silver spoon…
Don’t you get your acting…
Like a finger waving goon…

When you are down…
People want to bring you up…
But when your up…
People will bring you down…

Every day is a fight…
That no one expects you to win…
Bully’s often like to point out…
All your past sin…

I will keep my head up… And my ass out of trouble… That is all I can do…

peace – chriscondello

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Change

hooter

Hoot Owl – Acrylic on Canvas

The most difficult part of change… Is getting passed those who think you can’t change…
They are almost everyone…
They are almost everywhere…
They will stand in your way… They will act like they care…

They will show up at times and push you with a dare…

Be proud of yourself… Stand up for what you believe in…
If Jesus really died for it… Then people should forgive sin…

Believe in yourself… Always keep a spotter…
Remember in the end that blood is thicker than water…

Real men fight from the chat window… On a 13″ screen…
Feel real big… Typing about how your big and mean…
Taking shots at me…
Saying I’m not clean…
So you can tell that through the 3″ chat window… In the corner of your screen…
Telling me to be a man…

Really…

Want to be a hater… No trust in me… Join the club…
I fucked up for 10 years… It’s no secret…

That’s not what I am anymore…
That’s not what I do…
The rest of my life…
I’ll step over people like you…

I have no need in life to fight…
I already fight for my life…

peace – chriscondello

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Biohazardous Waste and Folgers… Not the best part of waking up!

Hot cup of coffee while the sun comes up… The first sign of morning is the laser beam of blue light that is enhanced by the cigarette smoke that accompanies my coffee… My body is still numb from the sleep… But my mind is electric from the lack of rest… You see… My body may have been asleep… But my mind wouldn’t shut up… Maybe I can focus for a few…

Let me see here… I just can’t seem to get my mind in order to write… Concentration seems to elude me… Blah!.. Seems to be the only complete thought I can generate… Nothing… Nil… Nada… Zero… Just sit and watch the news… With a cat… And my empty thoughts… Thoughts of nothing… Thoughts of everything… So many thoughts… I can’t seem to be able to put them into words…

Is it possible for the human mind to think nothing?.. Because it’s a very common answer to the question “what are you thinking?”…  I mean… Who in the hell actually thinks nothing?.. Even when I rest… My mind seems to just roll forward… From one thought to another… My mind weaves in and out of mental traffic… All that I can usually do is hold on… And hope for a red light…

Sometimes my thoughts are dissonant… I wrestle with the daily struggle that is the symphony of my mind… I struggle with every choice I have ever made… Sometimes it feels like a prison… As it does today… A prison that won’t let you write… Or display any kind of emotion… Emotion is nothing more than a sign of weakness—what a stupid statement…

Sometimes remembering something is worse than forgetting… My desire to be a socially sentient being has led me way off the beaten path… It’s amazing how many mistakes you can make in the name of friendship… But at the end of the day… I still have ten years of nothing… A million “exp” points and no gold…

I long to forget so much… And I hate to remember things… You could almost say that I have a fear of my memories… The dominant memories are drug related… A daily struggle I will never get used to… A struggle that at one time left me hanging by an extension cord… Even death is a feeling that I vividly remember… And every thought leading up to it… Save that for another time…

Recent memories are of a guy I used to hang with… He lived in a cold basement with his fiance… Junkies… Like I was… Held together by a parasitic bond… They seemed to feed off each other… Though in reality she fed off of him…

In this damp hell of a basement the only available light came from a candle… And a small glass block window that let the cold in through what I was told was a bullet hole… The lack of light was a good thing though… Not really much to see… A soaking wet mattress sans box spring on the floor… Two garbage bags of clothes… And an assortment of drug paraphernalia that would warrant a biohazard sign… Everything else was darkness… The penetrating sound of dripping… And nothing…

It was a rare thing for me to say I had a friend while I was still using… I guess we weren’t so much friends… But we had history… I went to school with him… And he always looked out for me… He hung himself in a jail cell… For reasons I actually understand… Oddly enough I was the first person his fiance called… At the time… I was the only person she thought would care… But I wasn’t sad that he was dead… I was sad that I lost my hook-up…

That is the kind of thought that predominately occupies my memory…  Everything I see reminds me of painful times and places… I find it very difficult to be positive… Though I try… As a writer I am trying to explore subjects that aren’t so doom and gloom… I hope this post puts my writing into a little  perspective…

Peace, love and happiness are feelings I am now attempting to explore… But given the fact that as an addict the only times I ever felt these emotions was when I was sky-high… You can understand my fear of the relation…

emotion is nothing more than a sign of humanity – chriscondello

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