Face of Addiction
I know it's not crack cocaine that makes my blood rush
it's a softer kind of way of being that fills my
brain with popping endorphins
it
makes my legs quiver with a shaky kind of expectation
and I know I live for it
entangled in it's tentacles that seem to stretch endlessly
from my wanting
my grasping
my needing
a driving force that has a mind of it's own
powered by the insatiable desire to fill this bloody gaping hole
that loneliness has found in a sort of lining in the hole...
I sometimes would give anything not to feed it
even at my lowest desperate moment
would have fed it my life...
until a realization hit me smacked me across the face=
I am not this addiction
and I can survive without it.
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