Post by Ann on Oct 23, 2008 7:42:30 GMT -5
DEMON NIC TALKS..
No Smoke group.
Subject: DEMON NIC TALKS..
LOUDER THAN I CAN FEEL!
There's nothing pretty about demon nic. There's nothing pretty about the
ladies at WEV nursing home, sitting in the hallways or the lounge, waiting
to have their safety bibs put on so their shaking hands can hold a sickarette.
For those who have had a stroke, with one side of their body still paralyzed,
mouth awkwardly angled.... in the home in their 50's and 60's because of a
stroke... leading cause of stroke is sickarettes.... wearing diapers, being
helped to bathe, conversations difficult because language is garbled, separated
from their families, their homes....institutionalized for what can be up to
their 90's because of the good care taken of what is left of their health...
having to leave a program that gives them pleasure.. because they need to be
back in the lounge where they can have their supervised sickarette....
I don't want this. This is written as much for demon nic as it is for
support from others. Demon Nic, i see these women - career women , wives,
mothers, grandmothers, decent people, shake as they reach for you... handed
to them by the same R.N. who distributes meds... and it makes me sick!
I see myself, a few weeks back , in the back yard, picking up butts off the
grass, not caring if the dogs had peed on them, that they had been stepped
on, that they were soaked from days of rain...I had to have you in my mouth,
feeding my brain poison so it won't have to acknowledge reality. I see my
dog moving away from me when I try to brush her with a sickarette in one
hand and her comb in the other... I watch my son move away and sneeze...
because of your smell.. on me....I watch myself climbing stairs, going for
walks, having conversations with people, having to ration myself before the
coughing fits start.
demon nic I have fought a long time to be free. From all sorts of lousy
rotten things and lousy rotten people. I have beaten a lot of it. I have
chosen a new path for myself. Except for you I walk that path. And now
it's your turn. Get ready Nic, do the best you can to make me love you
again - and work your hardest - because it doesn't work anymore. You don't
do for me what you used to. You don't make me think I am cool, or
sophisticated. I don't think I am being particularly bright as I suck on
you in silence, no longer giving the impression I'm looking for a
particularly bright response, taking advantage of your presence to justify
pauses....you are a liar. Would promised me freedom... you gave me
bondage.... you promised me maturity... love...appreciation of life... you
took me into slavery, taught me to avoid feeling by sucking on you, and to
move away from life.. rather than move away from you....you oozing mass of
tar, nicotine and assorted poisons... rot in he**.
found on Quitnet
No Smoke group.
Subject: DEMON NIC TALKS..
LOUDER THAN I CAN FEEL!
There's nothing pretty about demon nic. There's nothing pretty about the
ladies at WEV nursing home, sitting in the hallways or the lounge, waiting
to have their safety bibs put on so their shaking hands can hold a sickarette.
For those who have had a stroke, with one side of their body still paralyzed,
mouth awkwardly angled.... in the home in their 50's and 60's because of a
stroke... leading cause of stroke is sickarettes.... wearing diapers, being
helped to bathe, conversations difficult because language is garbled, separated
from their families, their homes....institutionalized for what can be up to
their 90's because of the good care taken of what is left of their health...
having to leave a program that gives them pleasure.. because they need to be
back in the lounge where they can have their supervised sickarette....
I don't want this. This is written as much for demon nic as it is for
support from others. Demon Nic, i see these women - career women , wives,
mothers, grandmothers, decent people, shake as they reach for you... handed
to them by the same R.N. who distributes meds... and it makes me sick!
I see myself, a few weeks back , in the back yard, picking up butts off the
grass, not caring if the dogs had peed on them, that they had been stepped
on, that they were soaked from days of rain...I had to have you in my mouth,
feeding my brain poison so it won't have to acknowledge reality. I see my
dog moving away from me when I try to brush her with a sickarette in one
hand and her comb in the other... I watch my son move away and sneeze...
because of your smell.. on me....I watch myself climbing stairs, going for
walks, having conversations with people, having to ration myself before the
coughing fits start.
demon nic I have fought a long time to be free. From all sorts of lousy
rotten things and lousy rotten people. I have beaten a lot of it. I have
chosen a new path for myself. Except for you I walk that path. And now
it's your turn. Get ready Nic, do the best you can to make me love you
again - and work your hardest - because it doesn't work anymore. You don't
do for me what you used to. You don't make me think I am cool, or
sophisticated. I don't think I am being particularly bright as I suck on
you in silence, no longer giving the impression I'm looking for a
particularly bright response, taking advantage of your presence to justify
pauses....you are a liar. Would promised me freedom... you gave me
bondage.... you promised me maturity... love...appreciation of life... you
took me into slavery, taught me to avoid feeling by sucking on you, and to
move away from life.. rather than move away from you....you oozing mass of
tar, nicotine and assorted poisons... rot in he**.
found on Quitnet