My Drug

NostroviaToWriting.com

Grinding,
rolling,
sniffing—
like coke up my fucking nose.
This is my
drug, the one I never chose.
The more I do it,
the more I need,
the more I
want.
And I need to up my effective dose.
One day I will bleed,
all my
sanity rushing out of me.
But I am imprisoned, isolated,
between the bars of
my thoughts.
My freedom has been taken away from me.
No, it never was, never
will be.
My mind, my paper, my pen—
they are my Holy Trinity.
And Heaven
is the absurdity
of endless
thoughts,
questions,
thoughts,
questions,
thoughts…