Where it all Comes From

I did acid at a Dead Head concert.  Spent the whole night wigging out.  I mean wigging out! Never did it again. Although, there are bits and pieces of that night and that concert that come to me in spurts.  I danced.  I laughed.  I cried.  I was a pathetic mess.  It was a blessed test.  "Fire on the Mountain".  It resonates in my soul.  Now hearing that song, I remember sitting in the back seat on our way home from that fated night.  A line of ambulances driving to the concert camp site.  For those that don't remember, a group of people were having a hippy, fun time dancing.  The deck fell and the rest was history.  That was also the Dead's last concert in grand ole St. Louis.  Anywho.  19.  Thought, "Eh.  Why not."  So not.  I didn't like feeling out of control as the acid worked its way through my body.  I remember every blasted tremor.  Horrible!  

So I write about it sometimes.  Because that's how easy it is to taste poison.  So sickeningly easy.  I was extremely lucky.  It never took hold.  Thank God.  I will tell you this.  My heart goes out to the afflicted addicted.  We hear it all the time.  It just takes one time.  One time for the poison to take hold and the tomb door closes.  A death sentence waiting to happen.  My one time taught me a valuable lesson.  It also taught me to be a little more forgiving of drug addicts.  Being in the medical field, I see no easy solution.  30 days in rehab.  90 days in rehab.  Is that enough? Folks.  I treated a 70 year old man addicted to crack.  It was a sad, sad day.  Words cannot deftly say how sad I felt.  My heart sank. Again.  There's no easy solution.  Number one, the addicted must want help.  If they don't want help, there's nothing anyone can do or say.  Number two, prison is not a valid rehab program.  It's a tax payer's nightmare; paying for some lost souls to sit in prison on drug charges - only to be released and start the process all over again.  In reality, the prisoners find drugs easier in prison than on the streets, but that's another tangent I won't even touch on.  Point being, let's definitely write our prosy, rosy poetry but not forget our own life experience.  Maybe.  Maybe just maybe.  Our own experience will help someone in an inadvertent way.