Ahhhhh Maria I love the response here. And the word play. And yes, you caught the subtle “line”. Of course a writer would catch that. I was afraid no one would see it.
There is a song by Dr Dre, it’s starts with a guy sayin “it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me” but the title is too spicy for Substack. That songs into is what I want to drop here.
Ok I’m back 🙌🏼 what a masterful double entendre. I saw three addictions here. Adrenalin, dopamine, superiority, drugs… amazing how word play can make us fight or flight but offer equally pushing side effects. All the same high just different ways of going about it!
When I was a nurse I loved cardiac icu because it was the fastest, bloodiest, most adrenaline packed ward. We saved lives! What a rush! Except it was an addiction, the rush of excitement takes a toll on the psyche.
But who doesn’t love a good fight? I will debate you until your face turns blue and I’ve left you in a puddle of emotions… that too is an addiction.
I don’t have any experience with the third so I don’t have an example.
Powerful poem! Because it acknowledges the addiction, but still at the end instead of registering defeat it’s like a call to action.
Thank you Dorie for taking the time to read. I h ad no clue you worked in ICU. That sounds so intense. The kind of work that is both rewarding and also draining. I can imagine you have to stay professional and not get drawn into everyone’s stories. That’s so cool you did that.
My sister and I share poetry back and forth. There is something in your poetry that reminds me of her work. Very reflective, aware, thoughtful, even spiritual. And when I send my sister something like this, she usually says something like “seems like you really just had to get that out.” Which i see as code for “not for me.” 😂😂
So I think that’s what I was reacting to when you said you were going to respond later. I was like uh oh. Dorie didn’t like it.
I do appreciate your thoughts here. And seeing what I wrote. Yes, it is certainly about our addictions, and even how the addict and the dealer and both wrapped up in it.
So sorry! I was booking marking for when I was free at work. It was a poem that required more than a great job! Also, I like your sister, she sounds like a pretty cool person! I’ll send you a picture of pre academia lol. I look so young 😂😂😂
She buys these pencil things and then carves them herself depending on how she plans to use it. I’m sure if I called her writing tool a pencil she’d strangle me, but I’m not sure the correct name for it.
I don’t think I’ve seen her do ink and brush, though it’s possible she does.
This poem feels like someone finally admitting, with a trembling honesty, how exhausting it is to keep pretending on a stage that never felt like home.
It captures the quiet heartbreak of moving through scenes that collapse beneath your feet while you try to look composed.
The speaker’s questions carry the raw longing to be heard without having to shout, to be allowed a moment of realness.
There is something deeply human in craving a pause not to escape, but to breathe in your own skin again.
The poem understands the loneliness of being judged while you’re simply trying not to disappear inside a role that doesn’t fit.
Yet beneath the exhaustion, there’s a small, stubborn spark: the recognition that you’re allowed to rewrite your part.
Walking offstage becomes an act of tenderness toward yourself, a refusal to keep shrinking for the sake of the script.
Stepping into “reality” feels like finally inhaling after years of holding your breath too tightly.
The power to close the curtain becomes a quiet reclaiming of your own life, not an ending but a beginning.
In the end, the poem honours the courage it takes to step out of the lights, into the cold air, and choose yourself with both hands.
Saif, you painted our Substack ouroboros. Doomscroll till you get your fix, and when that's not enough, write yourself your fix and share it to the other addicts. Hate and love are just keys on the keyboard. Did you take your hit today?
Is this a darkly funny takedown of outrage addiction that smartly turns the blade inward? The troll chases dopamine, the speaker supplies it—and then admits they’re hooked on the power of doing so. That final reversal (“The fiend is me”) rescues the poem from posturing, exposing attention itself as the real drug. Sharp, self-aware, and nastiest when it indicts both sides.
Always a pleasure when the poem lets the mask slip—and trusts the reader to notice. Thanks for writing one that rewards close reading instead of punishing it.
Haha I love this! The ending especially. Works on multiple levels. For sure trolls get a certain perverse pleasure from their trolling. But trolling the trolls can be its own kind of addiction. Certain email marketers I follow are brilliant at this.
Ben Settle and Ray Brehm are two of them. Ben actually wrote a whole book on how to utilize trolls in your marketing campaign and often makes fun of them in his emails. Ray will often take angry emails he gets and repurpose them in his own emails to humorous effect. He has one email about people who love to give unsolicited advice, which isn't quite a troll but maybe a distant cousin? It's like they have this uncontrollable urge to give advice and he deems it "advise-orhea."
What?! I have to follow these people. This is hilarious. Yes. Unsolicited Advice from faceless accounts especially. Actually. It’s almost always a faceless account with a fake name coming in my comments giving me advice.
I got my fix. My shot of dopamine. Never mind the bollocks - give me another line. I’ll inhale it every time.
Ahhhhh Maria I love the response here. And the word play. And yes, you caught the subtle “line”. Of course a writer would catch that. I was afraid no one would see it.
You cut the lines well :)
Sniff, snort, don’t tell
Exactly
I'm not a hater, bro. Put the glock down.
Seriously man. I read the poem. I liked it. There is no need for the glock...
What's that? You want me tell you how I really feel about it?
How can you ask me that with a glock in your hand? Seriously, bro.
The great Buzz has graced me with his presence.
There is a song by Dr Dre, it’s starts with a guy sayin “it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me” but the title is too spicy for Substack. That songs into is what I want to drop here.
Because right now the Glock is in my hand…
You have done your homework. Guns are the one thing that can beat my karate.
😂😂 I wouldn’t want to put it to the test though.
Wise move. I have sand in my pockets….
(Sand in eyes) > (Glok)
😂😂😂
Ok I’m back 🙌🏼 what a masterful double entendre. I saw three addictions here. Adrenalin, dopamine, superiority, drugs… amazing how word play can make us fight or flight but offer equally pushing side effects. All the same high just different ways of going about it!
When I was a nurse I loved cardiac icu because it was the fastest, bloodiest, most adrenaline packed ward. We saved lives! What a rush! Except it was an addiction, the rush of excitement takes a toll on the psyche.
But who doesn’t love a good fight? I will debate you until your face turns blue and I’ve left you in a puddle of emotions… that too is an addiction.
I don’t have any experience with the third so I don’t have an example.
Powerful poem! Because it acknowledges the addiction, but still at the end instead of registering defeat it’s like a call to action.
Don’t block me 🫣 I love your writing!
Thank you Dorie for taking the time to read. I h ad no clue you worked in ICU. That sounds so intense. The kind of work that is both rewarding and also draining. I can imagine you have to stay professional and not get drawn into everyone’s stories. That’s so cool you did that.
My sister and I share poetry back and forth. There is something in your poetry that reminds me of her work. Very reflective, aware, thoughtful, even spiritual. And when I send my sister something like this, she usually says something like “seems like you really just had to get that out.” Which i see as code for “not for me.” 😂😂
So I think that’s what I was reacting to when you said you were going to respond later. I was like uh oh. Dorie didn’t like it.
I do appreciate your thoughts here. And seeing what I wrote. Yes, it is certainly about our addictions, and even how the addict and the dealer and both wrapped up in it.
Thank you for seeing a layer beneath my writing.
So sorry! I was booking marking for when I was free at work. It was a poem that required more than a great job! Also, I like your sister, she sounds like a pretty cool person! I’ll send you a picture of pre academia lol. I look so young 😂😂😂
haha thanks, my sister is great. She also does calligraphy like you.
I remember you saying so. She dies ink and brush too? I have some of the felt pens but they don’t feel as good as the brush
She buys these pencil things and then carves them herself depending on how she plans to use it. I’m sure if I called her writing tool a pencil she’d strangle me, but I’m not sure the correct name for it.
I don’t think I’ve seen her do ink and brush, though it’s possible she does.
That is phenomenal! I love that! Maybe she will let you show me a picture sometime, that would be great!
Yes, I’ll definitely get some to share with you.
This poem feels like someone finally admitting, with a trembling honesty, how exhausting it is to keep pretending on a stage that never felt like home.
It captures the quiet heartbreak of moving through scenes that collapse beneath your feet while you try to look composed.
The speaker’s questions carry the raw longing to be heard without having to shout, to be allowed a moment of realness.
There is something deeply human in craving a pause not to escape, but to breathe in your own skin again.
The poem understands the loneliness of being judged while you’re simply trying not to disappear inside a role that doesn’t fit.
Yet beneath the exhaustion, there’s a small, stubborn spark: the recognition that you’re allowed to rewrite your part.
Walking offstage becomes an act of tenderness toward yourself, a refusal to keep shrinking for the sake of the script.
Stepping into “reality” feels like finally inhaling after years of holding your breath too tightly.
The power to close the curtain becomes a quiet reclaiming of your own life, not an ending but a beginning.
In the end, the poem honours the courage it takes to step out of the lights, into the cold air, and choose yourself with both hands.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts as always.
Saif, you painted our Substack ouroboros. Doomscroll till you get your fix, and when that's not enough, write yourself your fix and share it to the other addicts. Hate and love are just keys on the keyboard. Did you take your hit today?
Thanks Nicole. I had to look up ouroboros. It’s a serpent eating its own tail? Very appropriate metaphor.
And yes. I get my fix. Every day.
Is this a darkly funny takedown of outrage addiction that smartly turns the blade inward? The troll chases dopamine, the speaker supplies it—and then admits they’re hooked on the power of doing so. That final reversal (“The fiend is me”) rescues the poem from posturing, exposing attention itself as the real drug. Sharp, self-aware, and nastiest when it indicts both sides.
Thank you Dipti. Yes exactly. You saw through the whole thing. Thank you for reading so closely and your comments here
Always a pleasure when the poem lets the mask slip—and trusts the reader to notice. Thanks for writing one that rewards close reading instead of punishing it.
🙏🏽🙏🏽
Dang. 💥 I see this on stage.
Haha thanks Melinda. Perhaps I will perform it one day.
Haha I love this! The ending especially. Works on multiple levels. For sure trolls get a certain perverse pleasure from their trolling. But trolling the trolls can be its own kind of addiction. Certain email marketers I follow are brilliant at this.
Thanks Kate for reading and for taking the time to understand and see the poem. That’s always meaningful for me.
Now those email marketers…
Ben Settle and Ray Brehm are two of them. Ben actually wrote a whole book on how to utilize trolls in your marketing campaign and often makes fun of them in his emails. Ray will often take angry emails he gets and repurpose them in his own emails to humorous effect. He has one email about people who love to give unsolicited advice, which isn't quite a troll but maybe a distant cousin? It's like they have this uncontrollable urge to give advice and he deems it "advise-orhea."
What?! I have to follow these people. This is hilarious. Yes. Unsolicited Advice from faceless accounts especially. Actually. It’s almost always a faceless account with a fake name coming in my comments giving me advice.
Thanks for sharing this!
For sure! Haha yeah it's like they know their advice is really dumb so they have to maintain a cover. But they still can't resist giving it!
LOL but the rest of us really wish they would
I read this once, decided it was more of a battle rap, put on a beat and read again. Ferocity & cadence here.
Haha thanks JC. Yes it definitely was intended for battle rap vibes. It was inspired by an actual poetry battle I randomly got into on Substack
I can't say I've met any haters, but you did a great job pulling me into the feels
Thank you Franky. If my note gets popular enough, there is usually at least one. Especially if it’s an anti-ai writing note.
Saving for this afternoon 🩷
😬😬
This is so good! :)
Thank you
“Made you look” 👀 🥂
Haha, thanks. It was fun to write.
Thanks! Whose Clarence.
Oh! Man that’s such a vague reference. I thought it was someone here on Substack