Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 10


Special


Is it the wiring between my ears, the size of the pump in my chest? The difference which can be seen when you look from me to the neighbors? I know that you feel me to be special. I feel me to be special, too, just like you. Defining that thing, that combination which unlocks the mundane is more than just an attempt to point a finger; it’s a search for that little light. Close and closer we pull together and that is special but now I will whisper it, tell you the secret truth is my ability to play. Come play with me!




Whistle with the tune the wind brings you

*






IT’S MY PARTY

The party I was throwing myself in addiction
Was nothing but a very long wake.
There were no smiles, only murmurs of what might have been.
I was filled with tears I couldn’t cry
And mourned my death as I caused it.

When I took off my little black dress
And stepped from this shroud
I closed the bar, clicked the switch and the dirge stopped.
The funeral ended prematurely
I walked into AA where I learned to be the life of the party.