Addiction

Sleep is far from me. My head is spinning. I can't concentrate On the edge of my bed. My focus is off, But I can see the antidote. I'm stumbling forward. I want the syrup, The reason why I'm faint; I'm weak and falling. I'm going crazy for it. I'm low, low, low. My soul has a habit. My body loves the medicine. My heart is fully distracted. My mind is confused. Should I take it once again And taste it with my lips? Should I hide from intervention? My stomach is quizzy. My chest is in my throat Remembering the high highs. I make the call in the night And I'm satisfied again With its limited supply.