Between each and every line.
Feelings can build monuments,
as they can be our own demise.

I showed the librarian how Dostoevsky predicted the internet (and what we'd use it for) over a hundred years ago.

She seemed unimpressed.

Loving the addict is
an addiction in itself
Learning to digest
all of the sharp pieces that
come with it
Apologies and how
they lose meaning
after the second
Loving the addict is
as much of an art as
the hiding is, as
the covering up, as
the forgive me
After some time
I love you and I'm sorry
start to sound the same
letting go and withdrawal
become an equal amount of
swollen
and coming back is
more relapse than any
tangible substance
Loving the addict is
a guilty habit growing
inside a dark closet
feeding the plant until
it becomes animal,
ravenous
love and dependence
are both diseases that
share the same root

But being the addict
is always an attempted break up
It is avoidance at
its finest
It is ripping apart
strings of a rope
with chipped fingernails
in attempts to
cut loose ends
It is sawing pieces of
wood with bare skin and
trying not to get a splinter
It is leave me
It is don't go
It is I am trying to not destroy
everything in my path
It is painting with
heavy winds and rain
hoping there wont be
a mess to clean up
But mess is as inevitable
as the art is creating
And love and addiction
mix like oil and water
nobody is perfectly
capable of cleaning
up correctly
So we leave in a pile
to return to later
Coming back is
more relapse than any
tangible substance
that has ever
existed
and mercy is more perilous than
we'd hope it to be

Will it ever truly be
Overboard? In my head?
Probably not
But surely in this vessel

I see the ships sails
They are a different color
Then when I was aboard

They've set new course.
Brash pirates of the mortal liquid
Banding themselves with inebriation

Been aboard I have
And in this life
Never again

When the fog clears
And the wreckage settles
I will gather the pieces

I am on my course
And my compass
Points true north

Addiction

noun:

a state in which one feels the need to have the last word...