junkpoem

woke up troubled and lay awhile, tried to suppress the thoughts of you but couldn't, something trickled through my mind about people becoming the drug that they do and
it occurred to me that, shit my darlin, you are smack. casual use,
sure if that's what you wanna call it, but at the start you made me feel so high and whole and like it all made sense and I was comforted by the very thought of you and

then, time apart started to hurt and the longer the lapses, the colder and emptier it got and now it feels like hurt and ache and
when I'm on you (like right up on you) that's the only time I don't worry about when the high's gonna drain away; just up and leave and
I am beginning to see how I can't afford it. Cos when you don't avail yourself to me and you offer me nout but coldness, it's a habit I can ill afford,
but I put you in my blood and I need you
so I worry about how to fix up on you
and about you fixing up
and I realise I'm abusing you
as you're abusing me