I wrote this poem about books a few months ago, And really didn't think anyone else would understand but me... if their is someone who can im sure it would be here. lol



I know its their,
whispering in the darkness,
My blood burns,
I know it feels it too,
the pull the Need
Like a needle
like a drink
I can smell its scent
and it burns like nicotene
it carresses me from the inside
burning as it fights its way though my veins, through my very being.

It wont last long, this hit that i need to breahte,
this vapor, a promise of happiness,

but the promise, even shrouded in lies it cannont be ignored.
I fight a little longer,
trying to quelch the thirst
the hunger,
I temble
Its nearly to late now,
I can feel the rush of blood in my ears
the flush of my cheeks
I know its almost over

I Have almost won
despite everything



I have almost beaten the addiction
almost walked away.

my heart quickens and my breath shallows.
twisting through my head now,
silencing logic,
giving me the excuse i need.

I ratonilze my willingness,
the pain i need to stop
the reality i cant face.

the quiet settles around me
dampening the colors,
dampening my reality

I have lost the fight.
the temptation won.
Its bitter sweet

I get what i longed for, craved
what i needed to survive.

I absorb the words,
Accept the reality of a new world.
the vissions painted by anothers hand

i've gone through the looking glass,
through the platform,

Ive fed my addiction,
but how long can it satisfy me?