the crescent of my frown
the addict in me wakes as fury rains down up me,
like a freshly transformed werewolf smells the air,
in the pursuit of a end to an unwavering hunger,
my heart races and saliva glands pump and pour.
furtive eyes in the throws of frightened glances,
overwhelming its need fuels nuances all defiant,
flitting about in a circle of tail biting grasps,
thoughts cling to nothing cogent or reliant.
hands shaking as this urge washes over me,
if I can ride this beast I will make it through,
sweats trickles and burning indigestion stabs,
I hold to the fact that this is all for her and you.
through this misty haze I live my life as a ghost,
nothing solid to fuse to just cold ethereal control,
a flip book of life with pages torn out and thrown,
the addict in me is asleep in the crescent of my frown.
(2014)
being an addict is no fun
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