TW: drug use

My old scabbed arms grow more and more heavy
As a new mark is left and I'm shrouded in mental ecstasy
My head rolls back and my eyes are hesitant to close
As I think "maybe, this is it"
And maybe, I'll be lucky this time
The needle falls from my hand, the band still tight strangling my arm
I groan with the fire in my veins as it infects my whole body
The heat flows up my arm, reaching
My heart
And then the rest of me
Engulfed by the flames of my compulsion
Eventually the fire burns out and I'm left with a cool tingle
My mouth is dry, but I can't seem to close it
Unable to move, I am once again one with the stillness of my empty dark room
You call me an addict, but I feel free
But only for the time being

© ST.Mortenson