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The Alice Blue Chronicles
2008 Renee Matthews-Jackson, All rights reserved

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Addiction & Recovery Poetry & Short Stories

By Renee Matthews-Jackson




Alice Blue 



she kept them
in her terry cloth
robe pocket
in purses
she hadn't used in months
concealing her lust
for their affect
visiting physicians
far east and west to cop

denial was the substance of her pain
and grief
swallowed her whole
in moments of distress
dazed in a glassy haze
she wandered
in and out of reality's realm

thinking her secret
was safe
as deception
placed strong magnet
to her darkest desires
she'd popped far too many today
not remembering
when the last one was downed

bedding herself
on float of azure world
she smiled
as afflictive life
began to evaporate
and yesterdays of grief
channeled chipped scenes
in close quarters
as flashes of false well-being
sung beryl-blue melodies
in death of silent song



hand-to-mouth existence



she wanted what
  she wanted when
      she wanted it

finding her freakish fall
into fetish foggy yet fanciful

was not
out of bounds

her johns became movie stars
because that's how she wanted it

and when she was handed a twenty
she pretended it was five times that

there was
no phallic symbol
you call it
unfamiliar to her
not in the city

and I’ll lick her clean

even the second grade teacher
school too close to the corner
liked it raw
leaving bruises
on her firm ass-cheeks
slapping hard as she rode

he could be tender too
when she wanted it

the manager at publix's
was kind
wanted to role play
she wanted it
would smirk
even pout
but played along
sometimes it was fun
but there were times
times of insanity
bloodied walls
tell those tales
well enough

thin as a thistle
and tall as a tree
she looked like death
with a limp
lipstick ruby
colored outside lip lines

but they'd call on her
all night
all day
into the next

wearing her
in alleys
killing her tangled spirit

dick after dick
every orifice filled
to overflow

she wanted what
  she wanted when
      she wanted it






selflessness (en route)



she wasn't alice anymore
eaves-dropping on memory
lest she be reminded of such a haunt
figured it was better to give
lesser demons hidden well in shadows
entrance into new world, frightening
should she have turned away
stayed or run backward to face sitting realities
narcissism negates natural nuances of her nature nowadays
eclipsed thoughts echo cries from children
somebody has to do it
somebody has to





Aquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome  



all alice ever sought was love
conjured jigsaw pieced-together
questions; exact science needed to answer
unrelated, as situations may have been
irrelevance eagerly took chances, and
retribution misspelled her name repeatedly
even when hidden prospects secretl
determined her destiny
innocence flowered in quickened spurts
mocking evidence seen (unseen)
mimicking jejune persuasion
until her doused appetite
needed the whet of familiar fetishes
enigmatic orifices out rightly orphaned
determined to weave a tempting twine waylaid by words
embrace bone of physical affection
for to fill the smelly cavity of apathy
is a force powerfully carved from hollowed heart
craving to be recollected, reserved
in jars of elderberry preserves
eating intensity, ease of taste on tongue
nurtured from sugary ferment on grandma’s polished shelves
captured in the essence of a most fruitful harvest
yester-year jotting quiet
ink stains on vision's dream
sexualizing; a pastime used to manipulate
youthful tongue experiences maturity before its time
never without spontaneity, and compulsion
distinguished by measures of light
readily ascending from places beyond dimension
over blazing magenta horizons and
melodic, heavenly chipped cobblestones that heal
every ailment with lofty reach, stretched smile, and a hearty sigh

*Form - Acrostic


Lease and Release



An imaginary chalk drawn line kept her on the acceptable side of sanity but insane notions played tag with her daily routine.  She had known the bliss of life, which sang success, and had once lived on mounds of financial stability.  There was a lack of true richness felt because nowhere to be found were morals that caution recognized.  Throwing handfuls of chagrin to winds of spontaneity, her soul rippled across waters that mixed fantasy with latter rain reality.  Soft droplets of showers dry enough to enjoy. 

Alice lived and died in the smoky vapor of labored breaths.  Continuous thoughts that destiny had misspelled her name were grammatically incorrect, and in dire need of editing but she could not find her quill, and thick oil wells of ink had long since dried up.  Her only recourse; give way to angels and demons, because she knew the greater good would be the final victor.  Surrender was the resolve, and so, that is what she did.  Died and lived.  Alice had chosen to say "uncle" to carry her through until the end.  Breath now seemed unobtrusive.  A worn to the bone Alice accepted notions of finding a gram of peace instead of crack-cocaine, and finally exhaled.

Lease and Release - II


She walked in slow motion past vessels of chipped sculpture, searching for that void-filler we sometimes chase.  Seeking to cement relationships because without them we crumble into dust.  And she knew what ash tasted like, knew the burnt flavor, and chalkiness.  There were few foreign tongue-teasers that could twist her need to scoff the spiritual lack she had befriended.  April was now gun hoe to float along with those embers of change she had heard whisper, and nudge secretly all her life.  The hole she sought to pack was self-induced and gaping.

Shadows cast streetlamp memories of brighter times.  Fatigue climbed like ivy over her grubby face.  Chapped, and blistered lips trickled in red creases, numb, un-kissable…  Alice never cried.  Not on the outside.  Wasted  body fluids.  She settled herself with that idea in thought.  What did tears beget anyway?  Just recently, her elder, get-high associate, reminded her; “even steel bends“.  Her reflection in the store window appeared as if her bones had been through the fire from then till now.  A faint flash of youthful reckoning passed before her eyes and the streetlamp right above her head went out.  She smiled, and picked up her waking pace as if she were on a mission.

pangs of conscience



She never thought of the harm.
Degradation looming in shadows;
down-trodden refuse from past to present--
over and over, revolving as the Earth turns.

Alice pandered her soul for a rock,
wishing she had never met destiny.
Curiosity's embrace shrouded with need to know
and a silent self-reproach paced to overwhelm...

Had she listened to those who suffered before,
she would have heard her predecessors state;
"one is too many and a thousand is never enough".
But deaf ear blew smoke through brittle lungs with hefty sigh.

She scuffed her shoes in about face;
looked back at agony's second thoughts,
and fell into the same colorless chasm.
Permission freely given to remain in her cage of guilt .

the rooms



      after last night's rendezvous
      with relapse

      i found myself
      throwing stones
      from the overpass
      resistance unapproachable

      yet i was released
      from those sacred bonds
      of misdemeanor
      that made my rock pile diminish
      to ash and charcoal soot
      smudged on my cheeks

      i finally came to my senses
      reintroduced myself
      saved my ass
      and forgot about
      that insecure mask
      of facial salvation


lost & found




on her knees again
but not in prayer
except when the money runs out
then, she prays to win the lottery
so she can get her next hit
work her hand at a scheme
get in where she fits in
manipulate, debate, and loan
herself to the highest bidder
body blanched
and libido ignited
flagging down cars
to suck for dollars
she feels the worthlessness
of her whorish behavior
but knows only the numb
of existence
with thoughts
of slitting her wrist
to rid herself of self
yesterday's past harms
always present

until one day
a glimmer of light
bites the bum of hope
and she cries out for help
it comes as a step
on the staircase of recovery
she had to crawl to reach the landing
alice now lives in serenity
and knows that a dozen steps
complete the climb
then, she must begin again
knowing that there was
a better life
(siting beside fear's shadow)
than the one she thought
would always be her yoke

Alice and Silence


Between the setting of the sun and the same sun's rising with the next morn', Alice came unto herself.  Within the wee hours of darkness her adrenaline rushed.  She hungered for the night, it was her life's blood.  It was not as gloomy as some would think, it was not seething, nor did it bestow great mystery on her psyche, eventide was her friend.  Obscurity may have been the mode for many, but for Alice all was well in the silence, and with the absence of light.  Except for the neon signs in widows and the street lamps that blazed making shadows on walls and sidewalks, the darkness engulfed her spirit.  She detested natural sunlight, it was not her nature to bathe in those hot rays.

This night was different, there was something intense that had her anxious.  Her dark soul was not as delighted by the presence of this particular twilight, she could not mark time on the dimness of the moment.  Silently she rose from her bed, took her time ignoring night sounds, dressed in her Gothic clothing, patiently lacing her black combat boots, and placing her jet lipstick perfectly onto thin lips.  Alice made her self-ready for her midnight rendezvous with a lover that tilted her consciousness to one side, his.  There was hesitation as she left her dismal room, closing the door she sighed, hoping that her clandestine meeting would ease the tension.

Placing her ebony hood from her cloak over her head to shield herself from the winds of winter, Jillian strolled down The Avenue of Americas, New York's most traveled thoroughfare. Suddenly she noticed that there was no traffic.  This caused Alice to stop in her stride and look about frantically.  The quiet of the snowfall ended her frozen glaze quickly.  Alice picked up the pace and hurried to her destination.  She finally reached her lover's apartment, as she raised her clinched fist to knock, a fierce gust from the blizzard's breath blew the door open. Jillian felt queasy walking across the threshold.  She made no noise, the room was still, motionless, the silence was screaming at her.  She removed her hood, and with curiosity wondered where he was.  



Eight and Then Some


They flirted for months, yes months before that first kiss, and when they kissed... thousands of moments passed within seconds.  The earth made a clanging, and the moon changed phases in the eclipse of time.  He was all she ever wanted, and this night he would be hers and hers alone. They looked as deep into one another's eyes as souls could see.  They were young and the intensity of romance, lust, and unbridled commitment filled the room with the aroma of wildflowers.  

He led her to his bed.  Such a masculine structure it was. Giant mahogany posts, a down-filled mattress, covered by an old fashioned raspberry colored quilt. Three steps led to their paradise. Seating themselves on the edge, gazing once more into the others inwardness, he kissed her tenderly on each ear lobe.  Alice returned his kisses, lips gently caressing his wonderful face.  He unloosened her blouse slowly, taking what seemed like a lifetime to unbutton the tiny decorated buttons.  Once flesh was exposed, he kissed all that he could view.  Slowly he undid her skirt, she rose to her feet, and the material fell to the floor. There, in her undergarments, black panties and bra, warmth caused her body to flush.  He stood a distance away and breathed in what he exclaimed as; "pure, heavenly, artistic, beauty…".  He made this statement seem like one word!

Alice tip toed over to him, and raised his arms pulling, his shirt over his head, unsnapped his pants, as he stood stealth, trousers fell like they had no weight, down to his ankles.  He stepped out of them, picked them up and tossed them into a chair in the corner of the room. His broad chest glimmered in the soft candlelight.  He was such a breathtaking man.  The urge to suck him up, breathe him in, was evident.   In his Jockey shorts, the same sign appeared.  He went to the nightstand, picked up the remote control, aimed it at his stereo and the most wondrous jazz began to bellow from the speakers.  He grabbed Alice by the hand and took her to the room’s most innermost center.  The two swayed to the dance, a nice slow dance to mellow music.  She was lost in his world and he was ever so content in hers.

The music ended as he led her back to the comfort of his bed.  He gently laid her down, climbed and nestled beside her, tracing his fingers over every curve on her hungry body.  Her skin tingling with merriment, as his forefinger slid it into silk panties, finding the warmth of her waiting wetness.  He played in her garden for a spell, then, slipped panties off.

With a swift abruptness, he turned her to her stomach, unclasped her matching bra and kissed the bareness in the small of her back.  Alice moaned with pleasure, for his lips felt like so many tiny shards of crystal persuasion.  He turned her back to face him, removed his shorts and began to lick with slippery tongue from breast to breast.  First slowly, then with the quickness of a rattlesnake.  The feelings that were evolving made Alice hurry to hold his wondrous rod between her lips. She slid her mouth on to the thickness of his manhood and kissed it gingerly, then lapped a happy tongue about it feverishly.  He groaned as if the planet had exploded within his mind.  She held him inside her moist mouth until he was ready to explode, as she slowly released his Good bar.

The excitement of the hour was just beginning as he  began to explore her dark cavern once more.  This time with abounding forceful thrusts, screams in muted notes of thankfulness, and panting breath could not last at this rate.  Finally, she felt him enter me with the measure of a great plow, and could not help but yelp from pleasurable pain.  He was enormous.  Bigger than she had seen with her own eyes was his identity.  He filled her to the core, in and out, out and in, faster, with adulation, and motions of rushing tides when a tidal wave hits the shore. They gyrated in unison, making the music of a wild house party, “jamming until the sun comes up...” and shows itself in favorable applause, radiant and bright.

The couple burst into hot flames of passions as one, then launched into space as a rocket reaching for planets unknown, and universes yet undiscovered.  As this sensual scene reached its climax, they became drenched in the warmth of a new day, and fell asleep in the morning after, with bird songs on their lost minds.  Alice had longed for this passion.  This had been the first time since she became a prostitute to fulfill her crack habit that she had enjoyed sex.  There was no need for a hit tonight, she had already smoked her eight ball to its highest form of emulsification.


Copyright 2009 Renee Matthews-Jackson
All Rights Reserved
Reproduction of any kind
without consent of the writer
is prohibited.
Contact via email for permission

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