IMG_0878.JPGIt all began so long ago. But neither of us recognized it as anything other than an attempt to bring beauty and order to the overgrown, green- beige grass, mixed with an array of vibrant high saturated yellow daffodils.  All of this natural beauty was contained within a fence that had long lost its verticality and polished gray galvanized coating. Diminutive in size, the fence appeared out of place against the vast sprawl of meandering life.  Equipped with a rusty sickle, we began the task at hand.  It did not take long before we realized that our equipment was inadequate for such a large job.  It would take weeks, perhaps months of laborious work in the blistering summer sun before the mangled landscape would take on any semblance of manicured splendor.

Cleaning up.  Changing.  Transforming.  These states of transition describe the story of my life.  Each day the context read like a chapter borrowed from another book.  But no, it was the same book, disjointed; yet still hanging on like unglued pages eventually separating from its backing.  That book was me.

Often, I came so close to kicking my drug addiction. Yet, however strong my will and determination were, the craving for a hit was stronger.  I tried. Heck, at times, I actually quite. Through that awful, hot-cold, aching, thought I would die process, GOING COLD TURKEY, I swore to myself, Allah, Jah, God, mother, father, that I would never use again.  I lied to them all.

Like all inquisitive minds, I searched for the many unseen intangibles that lead me to experiment with heroine.  No, I did not begin in stages as some are led to believe.  For me, there was no benign reefer smoking introduction.  I started with a smack of the Queen of Get High, the White Horse that eventually became the monkey on my back.

I can’t recall the exact moment that the decision was made to deter from the path of the straight and narrow onto a road that intersect with so many other tributaries; each running perpendicular to the other.  i think it started around my fifteenth birthday.  As i reflect over my life from this lonely, cold, nondescript, minuscule, impersonal, claustrophobic barred cell, i realize that … if only I saw then what i see now.  So many  years of my life, wasted.  Precursors were there. I simply refused to acknowledge them.  Now, no longer wearing the rose color lens of the invincible, street smart, I’m down anytime bro.   The hustle to make fast green and too many get highs are taking my life.  I’m rapidly slipping into the abyss of darkness.  But before I make the journey into the land of Hermes, I leave these letters of humility with the sincere hope these words of loss tinged with regret will help save many young, impressionable brothers and sisters from walking down the same mean streets as I.  For the call of the street is strong.  And i, like so many others got caught and never made it back.




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