Winmalee, New South Wales
He used to have a home,
A place where he belonged;
A family to return to;
A life he took for granted;
Until the pleasures in life became wrong.
Now living in an alley,
The broken remnants of the man he was,
Cheeks sallow and sunken,
Dazed eyes bloodshot and hollow,
His body shivering and emaciated,
Resembling a walking, breathing corpse.
The alley smells of garbage and urine,
Littered with waste and discarded syringes,
He used to dream of mansions,
Sprawling gardens and fine dinners,
Silverware and expensive trinkets,
The life of the rich and gifted.
But great dreams die hard,
Disappearing like treasured possessions,
Sentimental objects and family members.
His expectations faded to dim flickers,
Hidden away in the abyss of his subconscious.
Now all he yearns for is sweet numbing,
Courtesy of Lady White and her needle, her charming suitor.
He lay on a threadbare mattress,
Staring into the purple haze of a sunset,
Watching the sun disappear behind its veil.
The night bitter and cold,
He watches stars emerge from their slumber,
Their complex constellations shimmer,
Like needle tracks on the arms of a sinner.
He thinks of sweeter days,
Before the cold embrace of Lady White
And her thieving drug dealers.
He remembers his family,
A loving wife and beautiful child.
A future worth living for,
Stolen away by the horror that is addiction.
He used to dream of a brighter future,
A beacon shining, glowing with vitality.
Lady White whispers in his ear,
Her suitor never far from reach.
He wonders if she will ever stop whispering,
Her hold on him tightens every day.
The beacon in the distant future flickers,
Now dimmed to a faint glimmer.
Bio: Madeline tells us that drug addiction is a very real and prevalent issue in society, and this poem explores the damaging psychological and physiological effects of drug addiction.