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.