Addiction is a curse.
Upon an afflicted soul
is a devil made deal,
Built by creative posturing.
In every worthless,
meandering idea,
I welcome
its gaze.
Lost in the torments of creative restlessness,
And the vagrancies of vanity,
Are the misgivings of addiction.
And I am trapped,
Left only with a bleeding mind,
Powered by over analyzed dreams
and a broken engine.
With each new drug consumed,
With each new fantasy explored,
I awake to find it again.
Addiction,
As it continues its course,
Is the near detachment of my soul.
Copyright (c) David DeSantis
David DeSantis
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/addiction-39/
