Stay away from drugs, they said.
It ruins you; their concerns beckoned.
Makes you lose control of your senses; They're addictive.
I rebelled at the cost of nothing that weed could do;
Indigenous to what cocaine would do;
Pills were reckless.
They never warned that mortals could be narcotics to my soul.
Unconscious to the destruction it'd cause.
Addicted to these new feelings of mine I have become.
From ashes to dust; my veins scream your name.
Your absolute numbness towards me overpowered the materialistic things.
How am I to withdraw from your addiction, oh beloved?
Show me a way out these shivers down my spine;
Heartaches and frailty running down my throat vanquished my will to live.
Maybe one last dosage of you; I may crawl out of this misery.
This hunger won't fade away.
Is there anything worse than drugs to keep in an illusion of high spirits?
How am I supposed to survive this fever?
This catastrophic melancholia filled with numbness.
The anarchy within my bones urged me to take the leap of faith;
Deliberately knowing that destiny would destroy every last bit of me.
No dose, I'm slowly dying. One last shot, I won't live.
Your absence; hanker.
Your presence; anger.
YOU ARE READING
The Rotten Calamity
RandomWhat keeps you alive when you feel rotten from within? Crawl through every layer of your skin to unearth the parasite that has been feeding off of your soul. Oblivious to your sufferings and pain, the mental breakdown after reminiscing memories that...
