Addicted (>Yes)

It’s 4 o’eight in the ante meridiem (that means morning, if you didn’t know), and yours truly just got back from dropping a pile of pennies on the gas station counter and asking the ample bellied gentleman to give me Red American Spirits and hot chocolate. Warming my soul with tangible satisfaction and pacifying my body with nicotine, I couldn’t be happier… which is a pretty bleak prospect, but counterbalanced with peace. Tobacco and chocolate have no mind to change. No loyalty to waiver. They warn you of their potential effects without fear of rejection: fatness and cancer… maybe both… possibly neither. Who really knows? Here, again, I rain down on myself with "nevermind"’s and "whatever"’s. Echo lines through my hollow insides: Please, god, make me a stone. Pray that I may levitate, I feel so heavy under sheets of gracelessness and abuse. No, rain down again with “who cares?”‘s. It’s hot in this room, but I must wrap myself in blankets. I need to be warmer. I think I am an ice cube, chilling the air around me, biting skin, freezing the energy aimed to soothe me. I don’t burn anymore, I melt & evaporate. I am depleted. I am residue and dew. "Nevermind"’s are all I mind. I’m quite good with those statements of denial and disregard. Let bygones be bygones and well enough alone. What I have are twisted, jagged invasions of memory and what I’ve been left with. I’m trying to distract my self with sounds and lights, but this show doesn’t really make me feel good anymore… not tonight, at least. Even it has baggage now. Sleep is tackling me from behind, jerking my eyelids shut. My bones glow and burn into my muscles. I am fighting my destiny of vagary phantasmagorias that are scheduled to tear my head apart for the next 4-6 hours. Neither my will nor my pain can save me from slumber. To bed.

Addicted (>Yes)

Arisephoenix

Petaluma, United States

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