FEBRUARY, '10
-------
Fourteen hours.
Twelve minutes.
Ten seconds.
This is how long I've been...
No. Kidding.
I don't know how long it's been.
Frankly,
I don't give a damn.
It was one time.
Part of me wants the shame
to disappear.
Like a magician's rabbit.
But here's the thing
about that rabbit:
It never disappears.
So until then
I will close my eyes
and pretend this rabbit of mine
is gone.
Who knows:
Maybe I'll believe it.
YOU ARE READING
Diary of a Self-Proclaimed Addict
PoetryAddiction is like a fire: It consumes everything--your life, your soul--in a colorful fury. Victims are entranced. But behind the colors and the warm heat there is damage. The question is, can you get out before it burns your whole world down? ....T...
