The warmth
of clean sheets
and a welcoming pillow
call to me louder
than a cold text book.

The flick
of a cigarette
is always more enticing
than the loud clack
of my keyboard.

And then
a wave of
     nausea
          chills
               anxiety
gripping at my core.

Where has my life gone?

Quickly, quietly,
I dial your number
and search the drawers
for a few crumpled bills
and you give me
in exchange
the familiar orange capsules.

The beads inside
jingle, as I walk
up the stairs to my room
and quickly swallow
the only thing
that can reignite the spark
and the passion
of knowledge, with which
my eyes once burned.