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/