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A Poem about Cannabis Addiction.


Dope Junkie

I can't get enough,
enough of the stuff,
I haven't got a honey,
never got any money.

I live on tea and toast,
can't afford a roast,
just skin and bone,
I'm always on my own.

I'm quiet as a mouse,
never leave the house,
can't clean the place,
I'm always off my face.

Gunna grow my own,
the seeds I have sown,
hope I don't get busted,
my neighbors can be trusted.

Someone stole my crop,
took the bloody lot,
they were growing very well,
hope they burn in hell.


About the Author

I was born in Melbourne Australia on March 4th, 1957. My mother worked in a pie van at Victoria market. My father drank. My brother, sister and I used to take time off school, go to the museum, botanical gardens or sneak into the zoo. When I was 9 we moved to a country town not far from the city. I enjoyed roaming around the paddocks. I didn't do well at school, my lack of concentration made studying difficult, I dropped out to pursue a career in retail. I managed an aquarium successfully. In 1985 I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, later with paranoid schizophrenia, with this came heavy cannabis use. I was in and out of hospitals for a long time. New medications have made me stable, I haven't been hospitalized since 2000. Psychosis radicalized my thinking, I realized I could make something out of the darkness. That was the beginning of my paranormal journey.

© 2018 JAMES

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