The hardest part is believe more in yourself than the weight of failure on your tongue.
The lump of give up stuck in your throat.
Broken fingertips that want to surrender.
I pull myself up by my lungs. Rearrange my insides well enough to hide my weakness.
And believe. For one second. That I can do this.

Not you again
An achy yearning rises in my chest
You show up out of nowhere
The hairs on my body stand
Won't you go away
Lips crack and dry
Maybe just one
I lick my lips
One won't hurt
You only need one every now and then
Unconscious actions lead me to the door
One that's all
Dopamine rush
I look up
"Big Al's smoke shop"
It won't be bad
No no no
It's relaxing
No no no
It won't hurt
No no no

" Hey yo"
My head turns
" Are you going in or what?"
I glare back at the store
" Nah"

Slurries of hails to the standard rail of self-expectations in the projector that melts back-bone whenever faced with a path over mountain that always professes from the abstraction sinkhole. Emptying that cobbed and worthless orafice seems pretty good lain back. it's during stalkings around the star of an other soul's eyes the motor behind the sighs that cut through the man-made fog is needed in my anxious tissue. It comes now an epic old stone to my skull like an old and overfed dog needs a forest's unmountable cedar amber airholm and rushing pulp thick with the scent of meat.

This poison is intoxicating. A drug sending you into the oblivion. Enraptured by the taste and the feeling of impeccable deliverance. It's just what the doctor order, a spoonful of laced sugar. A placebo effect with nothing but the risk of cancer eating away your insides. Green in color, like the skin beneath the coating of a candy apple. It enters your system like a rock through a glass window. Shattering reality, while constructing a world of make believe.  

This addiction is poisoning. An intoxication crawling inside her veins. The ever present itching there just below the girls pale skin. Waiting for her next fix.

One more hit...
Just one more.
O'please, give me more.
More;
more;
more;

This poison is blinding, an addiction of the soul. The disorder of the weak mind, with nothing else to hide.

One more hit...
Just one more.
O'please, give me more.
More;
more;
more...

"Please." I meant to say it assertively, but it came out meek and quiet.

Please love me, please want me, please don't leave me, please I need you.

Closing my eyes, I tightened my hold on him and tilted my heavy head to his broad chest. A hot tear bubbled over my eye, rolling wetly down my cheek.

*Please go, please leave me alone, please I can't help myself, please I'm too weak.