"I guess you can understand, but then again, I'm struggling to keep clean. So take my money, give it to me. I wanna feel my skin crawl and for my head to feel fine, I wanna hear the voices leave and watch myself die from a higher perspective. Take a hit and blow the smoke, leaving nothing, but my stomach mostly clean and my system drenched and muddy. My lungs are rotting and my liver is dead, I keep nothing down because it's never in my head. Given the chance I can, I'll do it again, but the itching and the scratching is pulling me from the high, but in the end it's all in my mind. But I swear to God I'll scream at the top of my lungs because I don't want this feeling to leave, I don't want it to go, I need it again. Please don't leave me for dead if I do it again, don't leave me again if they have to bring me back. Just let me go to get my fix and heal my soul with whatever I can buy, don't let me die inside when you know the smoke feels better then anything. My bones feel like shaking when I want to be awake again, my lungs feel like burning when I breathe it in, they feel better when I let my last breath out. Taking a hit, getting high and then letting myself die, my brain is dead and so am I. Was it worth it in the end?"
YOU ARE READING
The Thoughts of An Addict
PoetryThese are just some thoughts I've had struggling with addiction myself, and seen people struggle with addiction. It's a rough path to go down. I hope you enjoy.