you are bad for me.
a hazardous object in the hands of a child.
when you call i come running
before i even know what i'm doing.
i pick at pocked skin for your fix and i can't help but wonder
if you'll come around
while, at the same second,
in the same shaky breath,
begging you to stay away.

let me be.
leave this weary frame alone.
there are others out there
hurting for what your selling.
my pockets are empty
and i can't stand the cost of
yet another
free ride.

my fear is that
you know exactly how i beg
and hear every conflicted wish.
my fear is that,
you stay away only long enough
to let the fever reach it's pitch.
only long enough for the itch,
burning red and scarred over from the scratching,
to just have steeled.
just when i think i can put you down
you come back,
show up out of the blue
red, green and gold.
cementing the fact, that
next time,
i hold out just a little longer.