The smell of addiction.

A situation of constant falling.

Circumstance of suffering.

You're surrounded, but you're

so alone. 

 

The smell of addiction in the air.

And,yes,

the people stare and stare.

On the Outside,

And it's always cold.

 

You're selling your mind and soul.

Get help.

But to get help is pain.

 

It'll hurt like hell,

but you might stay sane.

 

Forget escape.

Losing all denial....

Reviews

[W. Braid Anderson]

I'm not really into poetry, which is why I'm only an occasional visitor to the site these days. When I am into it I prefer the oldfashioned style, where it scans and rhymes. But I can feel your message, which is the idea anyway. This is what I mean by oldfashioned [written in a cheap Thai hotel room]
How can I be Mortal? – I am ME
How in all Creation can this be?
When young I was Immortal
I could stride through any portal
And the future was Forever – don’t you see?

[M J Moore]

And what is really worse: the pain or the insanity? Is one really worth it? To live the rest of your life with that unquenchable thirst, to know that just to fix it once is to tumble back down the well...

[Autumn Dawn Gorny]

Shows the blunt truth about addiction without the wishy-washy rhetoric about how you will feel afterwards.

[TL Boehm]

Its been so long since I've read you. I've missed your writing. Even though this is sparsely written - a staccato write, bulleted thoughts - it is strong. Like knuckles to the skull.
Very impressive piece.

[Breezie Kae]

Great poem. :)