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Anne Sexton's "Addict" is a raw and unflinching exploration of the poet's relationship with prescription drugs, which she depicts as both a source of comfort and a tool for self-destruction. The poem, written in 1966, reveals the depths of Sexton's struggle with addiction, presenting it as a ritualistic and almost religious act, steeped in the paradox of seeking both life and death through the consumption of pills.

The poem opens with the stark labels "Sleepmonger, / deathmonger," immediately positioning the speaker as someone who deals in the trade of both sleep and death—commodities that pills provide. The term "monger" suggests both a peddler and a manipulator, someone who controls or orchestrates these experiences. The speaker's hands, filled with "capsules" each night, are described as making "arrangements for a pint-sized journey," a metaphor for the small, controlled doses of death that the speaker embarks on regularly. This journey, though miniaturized, carries immense weight, hinting at the speaker's constant dance with mortality.

Sexton’s language in the poem is both matter-of-fact and laden with irony. She declares herself "the queen of this condition" and an "expert on making the trip," indicating a mastery over her addiction, yet this mastery is tinged with despair. The speaker's expertise is not in living, but in managing her own self-destruction. The acknowledgment that "now they say I'm an addict" reflects the societal label imposed on her, but the speaker is dismissive of this, questioning why anyone would need to ask "why." The answer is brutally simple and stark: "Don't they know / that I promised to die!" This confession is both a cry of desperation and an assertion of control—she is not merely a victim of addiction, but someone who has deliberately chosen this path as a means to an end.

The poem's tone oscillates between defiance and resignation. The pills are described as "a mother, but better," nurturing in their own twisted way. They are "as good as sour balls," a reference to childhood candy, which adds a layer of bitter nostalgia to the addiction—what was once sweet and innocent has become a deadly indulgence. The speaker admits that her consumption of pills "has gotten to be a bit of a habit," trivializing what is clearly a serious and life-threatening dependency. The colors of the pills—pink, orange, green, and white—are repeatedly mentioned, turning them into a litany, a series of talismanic objects that offer both comfort and destruction.

Sexton uses the metaphor of marriage to describe the relationship with the pills: "It's a kind of marriage. / It's a kind of war where I plant bombs inside / of myself." This metaphor captures the dual nature of addiction—intimate and binding, yet violent and destructive. The pills are both a partner and an adversary, something that the speaker is both committed to and at odds with. The act of taking the pills becomes ritualistic, a "black sacrament," where each dose is carefully ordered and consumed with the precision of a religious ceremony. The reference to "the laying on of hands" evokes the idea of healing and blessing, yet in this context, it is a perverse blessing, one that numbs rather than heals.

The poem’s final stanzas delve deeper into the physical and emotional numbness that addiction brings. The speaker describes herself as "a little buttercup in my yellow nightie," a delicate, almost childish image that contrasts sharply with the violence of the addiction. The pills are "eight loaves in a row," consumed methodically, leading to a state of numbness—"Fee-fi-f o-f um— / Now I'm borrowed. / Now I'm numb." The playful reference to the giant's chant from "Jack and the Beanstalk" adds a darkly ironic twist, as the speaker is reduced to a borrowed, numb state, disconnected from herself and the world.

The poem closes with a sense of eerie calm, as the speaker lies on her "altar," elevated by the "eight chemical kisses." This final image of lying down, almost as if in a tomb, encapsulates the ultimate paradox of the speaker's existence—caught between the desire for death and the ritual of survival, between the need for escape and the inevitable return to life, however diminished.

"Addict" is a haunting portrayal of the complexities of addiction, where comfort and destruction are intertwined, and where the search for solace leads to a deepening spiral of dependency. Sexton's unflinching honesty in this poem sheds light on the painful realities of living with addiction, offering a powerful commentary on the human condition's frailties and the ways we seek to manage our inner turmoil.


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