What are you addicted to?

My father is addicted to raking leaves
Leaves fall
The clock ticks
Rakes break
Rakes are bought
Glossy handle made from an ash tree
Shiny red, flimsy metal
The latest in technology
Retired rakes are kept
In case, ya know?
Broken rakes are kept, too
In case a new rake breaks so bad that he has to switch to an old rake
And if bad luck continues to rain down
And that old rake breaks the same day
He has three broken rakes that were hopefully broken in various spots
So he can piece together a “new” rake

My father is addicted to materials
Many materials obtained
The clock ticks
No materials discarded
He has a Tupperware set that started to crack
Still useable
But he’s not going to not use the lifetime warranty
Tupperware sent a new set to him
So, it almost goes without saying
He now has two sets of Tupperware

My father is addicted to complaining
The rake breaks
He complains
The Tupperware cracks
He complains
The clock ticks
He complains

My father is addicted
To alcohol.
To cigars.
To being numb.

The leaves are winning
The vices are winning
Rakes are breaking
Leaves are falling

Tick tock
Tick tock

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  1. I am addicted to coffee in the mornings. I am fighting an addiction to tacos. When my partner needs to leave the house to go to the Smoke Shop, or drug store, or get gas in his truck, or go to a doctor visit, —– my first thought is to sneak off to get a quick taco. I am like an alcoholic wanting to sneak a drink, but it is not a drink. It is tacos. I am a tacoholic.


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  2. Coffee, oxygen, humorous memes on Facebook, pirate stuff, kilts, classical music, bluegrass music, music in general…addictions? I don’t know, maybe. I’m sure the list could be much longer, but at the moment, I’m at a loss for words.


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  3. Hey Drew, that was beautiful and bittersweet. I didn’t know you wrote poetry, thanks for sharing.

    What am I addicted to….

    I’m addicted to filling my empty time with more things to do,
    but then I get down on the “free” time that I never seem to have.
    Balancing deadlines and managing my priorities,
    to meet it all I feel like I need myself and another halve.

    I’m addicted to breaking routines and ending my streaks,
    it’s been this way for as long as I can remember.
    I don’t not like routines, in fact I think they’re quite helpful,
    but I seem to slip in and out at the drop of a feather.

    I’m addicted to late nights and a short nights rest,
    I can fit so much more hours in a day.
    I arise like a zombie and curse at the sun,
    but my mid-morning naps make it okay.

    Busy, spontaneous and sleep-lacking. Sounds about right :-)


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  4. beautiful and moving. So moving I’m having a hard time bashing the 12 step cults running and ruining my mental health right now. I have a drinking problem but manage just fine. you could make the case I’m addicted to junk food. I’ve been addicted to games or microtransactions or even adult content arguably. I’m addicted to bad mouthing bullies and addicts who are more intent on showing how everyone is just as shitty and addicted as they are than healing themselves and those they accuse of being just as shitty into better people.

    I’m addicted to calling addicts jackasses. There’s no shame in being an addict or alcoholic. Just shame in using it as an excuse to behave like a bully.

    I’m proud of you for looking for ways to bond with your father while he tics, and am sorry I’m venting and taking out on you what can be attributed to some active crack addict that needs to be in detox.


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  5. and a poem for a poem

    Now’s not the time to cry
    So I put it in that bottle
    I’ll be okay until I don’t have to be
    Put the pain in the bottle
    That’s not the right way to cope
    I bury the sadness deeper

    So it sinks out of sight
    Out of mind, right?

    Out of mind, but not out of heart
    It’s in the deeps
    I can’t see it and I don’t know I feel it
    But it’s a little butterfly making hurricanes of my heart

    And when it’s too deep to see
    I don’t know when the hurricanes will hit
    I can’t feel this now
    Oh god, right before an interview
    I can’t feel this now

    You’re supposed to feel like shit.
    But I’m sick of feeling like shit.
    I won’t let myself.
    I put it in a bottle for another day.

    I want to bleed it out in conversations
    In manageable tears

    But after how hard I’ve worked to be okay
    I struggle to share that I’m not
    So I put a bottle to my mouth and the words come out
    I can’t sew my mouth shut if I’ve got a bottle glued to it

    A little bit and words come out
    The sadness escapes
    But that’s the thing about bottles
    The more you bury in it the harder it pushes to come out
    So a little turns into a lot
    And a stream turns into a tsunami

    Out flow a hurricane of tears
    Out flows the sadness
    I vomit out my pain faster
    Faster than I can explain it

    But when I don’t explain it
    It stays with me
    Buried for another bottle to burst

    I don’t want any of these bottles


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