I can feel my addiction,
Begin to eat away at reality,
As I try to sleep away the night,
Knowing I'm copping at 8 am.

I know a needle in my arm,
Isn't the same as happiness,
But I don't know how to sleep at night,
Unless I'm heavily medicated.

I'm swimming in an ocean of blood,
Mixed with the ever present ******,
Or is it morphine this time?

I've been swimming for so long,
But I've never seen the shore.
And I can feel my tourniquet,
Tied to my wrist like an anchor.

Maybe I'll dose a little too much,
And spare myself the agony of detox.
But ****, mom would die,
If I didn't make it home.

I guess it wouldn't matter,
I'd have that dark abyss.
But there's one thing I know,
It's certainly ****** I'd miss.