Lingering like a bad smell
you reek of my addiction.
Stooping so low as you try to tempt me
with more of your devilish junk mail words.
Words you hope will stir within me
thoughts of seeking,
of seeking like minded lost souls
with distracted eyes,
eyes baring far away dreams
of glazed numbness
from their dirty dark corners.
And you, you know that there, in your words,
lies the kind of solace
that can only be found in the hunger for wanton abandon.
You try to bait me with my weakness,
Well I ain't biting.
I want escapism,
though nowadays it's
the clean, crisp, clear kind
that allows me to look within
not through the smudges
of guilt and shame
that is you
blearing my vision.
everything I escaped to and from,
the parasite that lived under my skin
that after hours of vengence feeding
surfaced as the bad after taste of over indulgence.
Fat and swollen with you I am fit to burst
and in a single moment
where I weather an internal storm,
a huge wave of tumultuous rage in my stomach
that I will to crash and drown the crave fuelled undercurrents of your words.
You are residual,
washed up scum foam that I will not dirty my feet on.