A Stray
My name is Gregory. | |
Brother, son, husband, and father, | |
50-something-year-old addict | |
in excruciating pain. | |
Claims to be in pain. | |
Murmurs outside my door. | |
If only they knew how much | |
I am hurting. | |
Exaggerates. Broke bone over a week ago. | |
Two heavy taps, twist of the handle, enter. | |
Let's get this over with. | Let's get this over with. |
Like disappointed parents, they approach. | |
Hopefully this can be brief. | |
We know his tricks. | |
They stand over me. | |
Hands on hips. Scornful | |
scowls. I cower. Their puppy | |
who misbehaved. | |
No, a stray mutt. | |
Homeless, famished, desperate. | |
Fidgets in bed, stands and paces, | |
confined for too long in the room. | |
I ask for help. | |
Demands more oxy. | |
Not going to happen, buddy. | |
Growls in rage, howls profanities. | |
I feign anger to mask | |
my suffering, but anger is not | |
what I feel. | |
Embarrassment. Fear. Defeat. | |
Those are better words. | |
They finally leave. | We finally leave. |
Nothing to do but | |
retreat to the wreckage. | |
Needs to distract himself from his | |
addiction. | |
The broken arm taunts me, the withdrawals | |
beat me, and the shame | |
tethers me to despair. | |
Doesn't he have a family? | |
I am a brother, son, husband, father, and | |
famished mutt. | |
They deserve better. | They deserve better. |
Addiction consumes these roles. | |
He is destroying himself. | |
Frigid pangs of regret and gusts of guilt | |
slap me across the face and bite | |
at my soul. | |
The storm of addiction | |
destroys all shelter; no refuge | |
for a stray. | |
Poor thing. | |
I am sick. | He is an addict. |
I need help. | He needs help. |