Words From An Addict
By: Toni Whisenant
Addiction.
What a cruel word.
So taunting and crude,
Yet so very true.
A singular reason
To stay out of the public eye.
Weakness of the worst kind.
The pain of love
And the love of pain.
A never-ending vicious cycle.
Always putting me under
And drowning me in the waters
Of misery and grief.
To deny it
Makes it that much bigger.
To betray it
Makes it that much harder to kick.
Words from an addict
Too weak to hold her own.
To travel back down that road again
Would be my utter demise.
So why not give in
To its torturous calls?
Because to do so
Would destroy my only sense
Of perseverance and livlihood.
Yet it beckons me
Like a mermaid to the
Sailors of old.
Like a succubus to the
Weak-willed.
Can it be cured?
Or will this disease
Haunt me for the
Rest of my days?
Nothing is for sure,
Except that as I write this,
I damn and curse my addiction
To the fullest extent
Of what is left
Of my spirit.
Happiness is no more
With an illness
Such as this.
So treacherous the need
And so torturous the want.
The addiction overrules,
Yet I run from that need
And from that want.
I try not to look back
But every time I do,
I see it just over my shoulder.
Peering dauntingly.
Whispering to me
"I am here forever."
