Confession Of An Addict Poem by Jennifer Liston

Today
I did nine lines.
As always,
white powder
worked its magic.
Inhaling.
Sins scrubbed away.
Intoxicating.
Memories cleansed.
Indulgences vanish.
Through the swirling
heady aromas
and sheet-beat
smacks,
my mother’s voice
I hear,
echoing my addiction.
Or is it mine?
I could be getting my fix anytime,
in any suburban back yard
or Hollywood garden.
Satisfied (for now) .
My laundry
clean,
dry,
aired,
ready to fold.