Climbing up the sides
Reaching for clarity
The pills vacate my blood
Withdrawal is insanity

Scratching at the walls
As they close behind my eyes
Swimming in tsunamis
Ripping tides
Muffle my cries

A temporary bandaid
To stitch over the pain
Every second
every day
My body rendered
Trapped
Detained

I relent
And they rock me gently
As I slip into a dream
Where I can run, jump and dance
Not break and bleed at the seems

But the body needs to rest
From these soul destroying treats
So I'll abstain
Refrain
Remain
True turmoil
No easy feat

Then a week has passed by
And the world regains familiarity
A deep breath
And a stretch to the sun
Full of possibilities
And new clarity....

Welcome to AA. Also known as Addicts anonymous
Well, hi I’m Jetzael, and I have an addictive personality. But you can call me jet. It started about 4 years ago with small things.
You know, from the things I ate to the seats I took.
But then my addictive personality escalated to people. But let me explain to you how my addiction with people worked… or works.
Itll start of by needing to take a glance at you. That would fulfill my high. Then I needed a simple hello until I needed a hug, a conversation, lunch every day, a seat next to you, it never stopped! My addiction with you never stopped, it just kept growing.
And when my high wore off, you didn’t get out of my head. What were you doing? Were you happy? Did you need something? Are you mad, sad, frustrated? Are you okay? … am I okay?
All I could ever think about, was you.
And we all know here, addictions never end in a good high.
So it got to the point where my questions turned from were you okay? To was I ever gonna be.
I went through the withdrawal. All alone. All the restless tearful nights until I got high again. Not by you though. But her name was oxycodone, with her friends Percocet and codeine.
They became my best friends. They always distracted me from you until I got tired of them, because you… pff… you gave me highs that codeine could never. But then came along all the restless, nauseous, and chilly nights until they all got out of my system. Why? Because I was growing an addiction for you… again. Would you still like me this way? Would you support my ways? But the one question that kept me up all night was, did you still love me?
At least just a little bit?
But then my old home-girl came through, Maryjane. And numbed my mind away from all the questions and thoughts that existed about you.
She would smoke me out every day, before the sun was even two minutes into his 12-hour shift.
We would be numb the whole day so I never had the chance of thinking about you. Couple of months went by, but if you wanna be exact, my addictive personality could tell you how many months, days, hours, minutes and seconds it was. But that’s unnecessary.
I mean, all my highs were starting to let me forget your scent, touch, words, even your face.
But then you crossed me again, and all those things I thought I forgot about you, rushed back into my head faster than any other drug that existed.
So here I am again, craving highs, not from oxy, perc, codeine or marijuana,
but from you.

Breath starts to shorten,
And my body goes numb,
As I lie awake in bed,
Waiting for death to come,
What was supposed to heal,
I am now using to ****,
And I won’t ever stop using,
Until my heart is completely still.

I've always thought of you
But the thought of loosing you,
Has driven me to pharmaceuticals.

Quit, I know I oughta to,
But I just feel the benzos pulling through,
What the Hell shall I do?

So I try to play it down,
Even though its only opie
It still aint half as bad as brown.

Lets lighten it up,
Don't wanna be no dope fiend
But like a pent up bull to red
I head straight for the shop bought codeine

Oh cody, you don't make me swell,
If anything man, you make my being well,
For that small amount of time
I feel I can take on the world
Until I get to tomorrow and I feel I've created Hell!

All the things we do,
Just so we can feel the warmth,
Finding our little cliques,
Just by the way we talk.

Have you tried this,
This ones hit and miss,
Mix it in with this,
For eternal bliss.

Now I've heard it all before
Nothing improves and nothing changes,
But there's something in the brain
That promises you can catch that Dragon once again.

The Dragon flies high
With the fire in his belly,
But you haven't any,
So why you trying to catch him.
(So why do you even try).

Half my time is spent bruising my own ego,
as I literally try to command every cell in my body to forget you entirely.

Forget your stupid face, your name, and all the things I can't stand about you.
Or worse.. all those things I'm ashamed to admit I love about you.

In the end, pretending your nonexistence only antagonizes me more.
The absence of you is louder than the endless supply of smart *** remarks you never seem to run out of.

You take the joy out of every day, you rob me of the fun in getting high,
You steal the very colour from my sight!
Forcing me to star in this silent black and white film with horrible lighting.

The other half of my time consumes all the rest of my energy.
As I will the fibers of the Universe into energy that does my simple bidding-
Overdosing your every single thought or impulse with only one yearning desire:
Visions of me, covered in only green lace and liquid codeine.

Oh the things I would do to you!
I would go to such lengths to pretend to please you..

I want to give you the world just so I can take it from you later.
And because you are the fire of my soul, my one and only..
I promise you I will.

feeling sorry for myself again,
surprise surprise, I think a lot
they say don't it's bad for you,
surprise surprise, I wonder still
feeling sorry for myself again,
like some crack-addled *****
frustration at every turn, as I see
the corridors of my mind; a dead end
every time, and maybe the migraines
are a true sign of recent times
pain for days, a complete sense of contempt
seeing myself so low, I must mount my eyes
high up in the trees, stitched into leaves
to look down on everything so

feeling sorry for myself again,
surprise surprise, I think a lot
they said don't it's bad for me,
surprise surprise, I wonder still
feeling sorry for myself again,
like some lonesome lowlife
I understand the kettle's whistle,
tormented and brought to boiling point,
tortured by the very talents that give it purpose
am I a kettle or a joke to you?
pain for days, a complete sense of contempt
seeing myself so low, I must mount my eyes
high up in the trees, stitched into leaves
to look down on everything so