I have to admit, I am an addict.
There I’ve said it; I am an addict.
I crave my drug of choice,
Drink it in, wallow in it.
I rejoice at it’s nurturing feeling,
Its uncomplicated high.
I fear my soul is lost to it.
It fashions my dreams,
Whispers to me in the night.
It takes away my depression,
Catapults me through anxiety,
My days are spent seeking it,
I pay what ever it demands.
The torture of absence aches my being.
It is a canopy that shields me,
I hide in its unfathomable reality.
Having consumed its sweet musk,
It now courses through my veins,
Shaping my world, my mind, my beliefs.
There is no help for me,
I do not seek intervention,
Counseling is a rich mans joke.
Naked before it I seek only its cloth,
A mantle of glorious colors and light.
Alone in this sanctity I am immortal,
Bringing me to my existence roots.
I have no choice but to give in to it,
Though, my love for it is shameless.
I hold no one responsible except myself,
There is no arrest for using it,
No laws violated, no prison.
It is bought and sold, yet free.
When you call me and no one answers,
I will be incapacitated by it,
Unable to respond to mankind’s devices.
I do not wish to be disturbed,
I will be with my obsession,
Inhaling my dependency; Nature.
©2013, Donald Harbour
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