Addiction, contradiction of affliction,
A constant, relentless affiliation,
A definition that defies comprehension,
Functioning, my facade as my protection.
To the world, I seem fine, no one knows,
The depth of my secret crushes that impose,
I float between substances, seeking repose,
A dance between highs and lows.
Moderation, always my guiding creed,
No excess, no extremes, I proceed,
A daily dose of escape, my desperate need,
The nightly smoke, the stiff drink, sweet taste of weede
A smoke, a cup of coffee, some sweet caffeine,
Nicotine, my constant companion, it seems,
Always making small adjustments to my reality,
An upper to chase dreams, never a downer at my plea.
But what happens when my choices become a need?
When mind over matter starts to bleed,
Will I stumble or will I be freed,
From the clutches of my beloved, wicked weeds?
When will I find the strength to be sober,
With nothing in me, no substance to smother,
To face the reality of life, some sort of closure,
The truth is, I haven't decided it to be over.
For these crushes, they define a part of me,
My rituals, my intentions, my life's decree,
My habits, my crutches, my twisted reprieve,
Until I find the strength to finally believe.
I can live sober free
©kazmac
K