The old habit returns sometimes

It shows up at the door

Maybe it expects a handshake

Or a hug

An "I miss you" as I fall back into it

It entices me

Waves around the pain and blood

The 3 o'clock in the morning trips to the bathroom

Were I had nothing better to do

And no idea how I should really treat

The temple of a body I have

And the catacom that is my mind

And how not to listen to its rotting words