Withdrawal.  

 

4 days.

Since the last fix.

Throat parched,

Thirst unquenchable.

Food tastes of ashes,

On a cracked tongue.

Limbs shiver,

Craving for a dose,

Breathing uneven;

Vision blurred,

I feel the world revolve,

All too well.

 

Delirious,

For a parasite,

I loathe to my gut,

An illusionist,

Who tampers my reality,

A snake,

That poisons my hope,

A dagger,

That bled me countless,

A leech,

Who sucks joy out of me,

A quake,

That shakes the ground beneath me,

 

To consume again,

Would be killing myself,

Come to contact again,

Will maim what’s left of me.

Yet my veins dangle,

Yearning for a glimpse,

A sign that you exist;

Some tiding,

To console my empty vessel,

That you are not entirely

Of my mind’s concoction.

And remind myself,

Of what hell’s fire it was.

 

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