EAST-SIDE ADDICTS PAINT THE PAIN OF ABUSE

Downtown east-side addicts do more than scramble from fix to fix. Often,
they record their thoughts, in the form of graffiti. I spent most of a
recent morning poking through nooks and crannies in Vancouver's heart of
darkness, where written messages tug at the heart in dismaying fashion.

The personal nature of the writing removes any hope of maintaining a
clinical eye. The first words I saw, scrawled in black felt pen on plywood,
kept me standing, riveted in the north lane of the unit block east Hastings.

"I'm frightened. Why didn't anyone keep me safe?" What would prompt a
person to write such a thing on a wall? Only overwhelming feelings of fear,
combined with no hope of escape and amazement that they'd been allowed to
fall so far.

The first eyeful of poetry cried out from the south lane of the 100 block
East Hastings: "The eyes of beauty and love mask true deception, to deceive
the foolish. Unknowingly, the naive one is spiraled down into an emotional
room in hell!"

Not an easy read and clearly something that took time to compose.
Presumably, the writer had come to see every gesture of affection as false
- -- and maybe for good reason.

Consider this morbid piece of work, from the same lane: "Ally of the Abyss.
Sanctity of Death? Her numbing embrace, graveyard kiss, embalming fluid
breath! Feel."

Cheerless it may be, but it's a respectable bit of free-form poetry. Again,
however, the mental state of the writer comes off as tragedy. Likely, he or
she has seen enough death that the event lacks impact. Perhaps enough that
suicide is no longer ruled out.

Conjecture, admittedly -- but I doubt I'm far off the mark. These things
are written when no one is watching; they're very honest disclosures.

The words "Jesus Never Met My Alcoholic Father" shout distress from a brick
wall in the lane south of Vancouver's Army and Navy store. A detailed work
on a door to the west speaks of the writer's years as a musician, of living
inside, beyond the door. A musical disagreement led him to move to New
York, where he became addicted to heroin. Then back to Vancouver -- where
he's been reduced to laneway crawling and staring forlornly at what used to
be his own back door.

Some graffiti is too sexual to quote, some is cliche. "It's better to burn
out than to fade away" is seen throughout the downtown east side. Mystical
encouragements abound, ie: "Believe in the circle. So sad to hurt, when
excuse is abuse. Set, match, love - the game continues. And you receive
what it is you give.'

There is wisdom, but also incredible pain wandering in our laneways. Police
are encouraged to address roots of problems, rather than symptoms, but
where does this type of misery begin? Beneath low self-esteem you tend to
find childhood abuse. Beneath that, abusive parents who were abused kids --
and so on.

Chase the source of that pain far enough up and you end up back with Adam
and Eve. Very few are ready to confront that lesson. Either way, if anyone
recognizes their prose in the paragraphs above, drop me a line.

Const. Mark Tonner is a Vancouver police officer. The opinions expressed
are those of the writer, not the Vancouver police department, or the police
board. Tonner can be reached at The Province, or by e-mail at
marcuspt@direct.ca