Poezja

I sit on the bathroom floor,
waiting.
My veins call for you...
craving!
Blood pulses through vessels,
inhaling air I breathe steadily.
A calling, a thirst, which is called hell to me.

Too hot to touch,
too hot to touch... what a rush!
With a needle I place liquid on a blacken spoon...
from a drug I always prefer to use;
this is my abuse.
Where the fire stains the metal...
marking the surface scorching hot to the very touch.
Small bottles fall upon the ground below.
The syringe absorbs the juice I feed...
a tight cloak wraps my arm, forcing it bleed,
cutting circulation to pop out a vein.
This kind of addiction can drive a man insane!
Begging for my desire, such a hunger of delight
Soars I can't hide, these wounds won't heal,
dangerous kind of appetite.

I don't care who sees me...
Why should I hide?
I don't care what they say:
this drug is taking me higher than any person can dare,
I've slept in alleyways, lying on the wet cold concrete bare.
People walk on, and all they do is stare.
Treating me like garbage, though I really don't care.
I've snuck into purses,
stealing everything in sight.
I have a habit, I need that fix...
this is my heaven and hell mixed.
I can't get any higher from this point where I stand.
But this isn't what I call heaven,
When I don't care who I harm, or what I am!

Not giving a damn about the memories I sell...
this addiction is my hell.
No sexual encounter can give me,
freedom from this wild escapade.
But herion can offer a grantee, without delay.
Though this agreement is so unfair...
I signed my name on the dotted line,
with blood from a vein I just used.
These demons help me abuse;
having me hunger for a taste of something...
that damages and amuse.
Watching me wasting away from what I consumed.
Here's a drug addict's confession,
twisted is a love; imprisoned I stay,
doomed this passion...
for it's to late to turn away.

Hell is my redemption...
for it's thirst I crave!!