Six Thousand Days in an Hour



If I could put all my experiences to pen
How and why would it end?
How would I express
Thoughts of impending death
At the tender age of five?
How would I describe
Fear I wouldn’t survive,
And anxiety that would persist
While I tried to imagine that I did not exist?

How could I go on to tell
Of the intoxicating pride I felt
Imbibing in utter insanity-
Needle to the flesh depravity?
The elation I felt of accomplishment,
When all I had accomplished was jails, institutions and death?

So many scenes of just you and me
Music playing so mysteriously
Eyes interlocked hypnotically
Would anyone wish they could have been me?

And then would anyone laugh
If I told them about kites
And smuggling a stash?
Could someone get on stage
And recreate the debasement
Of defecating in a cage
Or relay just how difficult it became to disengage?

Six thousand days in an hour or four
Six thousand days, perhaps would take  more.
Only you and I know the score!
It’s all something I should have said before…

Something in the back of my mind-
That vague haunting feeling
Insidiously seeping inside.
Memories that want to speak
Are slowly losing their voices-
So many debaucherous choices
So many peace’s to seek!
Where does serenity reside?
I Kept the twilight reeling
And watched you concur everything you could find.

That would be a novel in and of itself!
How could anyone bare anything else?
But I would have yet to tell
Of all the things that I said
Or the times I should have been dead.
What have I done to the best part of me?

My life is longer than War and Peace,
An eight part epoch
That might make you sick.
Chapters of laughter and shame
And endless potential washed down the drain.
If you listen closely after a rip
You can hear the ghosts speaking their truth in there.

Six thousand days in an hour or four
Six thousand days maybe a little bit more
But throughout every blessed new day There is one thought that keeps me going,
One irrevocable truth!
My life has been anything, anything but boring.

About this poem

This poem is a reflection I have had on my urge to write a biographical novel based on the misadventures of my life. I am a recovering alcoholic and addict currently applying to PhD programs and working with horses; however, I spent 25 years of my life chasing happiness in various substances. In recovery, you are often called upon to share your story with others, but mine is so long and complex with so many twists and turns that it is impossible to express. This poem captures that sentiment, along with some of the storylines of my life.  

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Written on August 02, 2023

Submitted by Lallishoes on August 22, 2023

2:03 min read
59

Quick analysis:

Scheme xxxabxbcc dxeefa eede xxxgfgg Hhhh ijklmmlkji xxdnne xxxxxxx Hhjxj
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 2,021
Words 412
Stanzas 9
Stanza Lengths 9, 6, 4, 7, 4, 10, 6, 7, 5

Gina Lalli

Born into poverty, Gina grew up in and all over LA. She grew up in a disfunctional family with an abusive alcoholic mother, causing her to suffer from depression and anxiety. She found temporary relief in substances and spent 25 years chasing that feeling, trying to manage her addictions. She caused a lot havoc and damage, but has spent the last 5 years trying to make amends with her family, friends, and the world in general. She has a wonderful husband and daughter that have stood by her and given her the strength to overcome her issues. Today she is graduating with her Bachelors in Biology, and looking for Doctoral programs to continue her education. She is also fulfilling her childhood dream and passion of riding and caring for horses. more…

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    "Six Thousand Days in an Hour" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 31 Oct. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/168368/six-thousand-days-in-an-hour>.

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