Tuesday, 4 September 2012

Sister fister

Brown eyes misty and glazed with white, pupils the size of pinheads and not due to light. Facial expression a representation of suffering and death, although unfortunately you havnt yet given your last breath. Once again trying to free yourself fron this hell youve cooked up and created, death is one option that millions of times over and over youve contemplated...
Wasting everything from cash to life, constantly to your life adding more and more strife. It seems a sucker for punishment you are, trying to cover yet causing more and more festering on this already fucked up scar. Yet all you want to do is fix it and sort it out, isnt that what overcoming addiction is about? Yet you just look worse and worse as every day passes by, if you had tears left it would be another reason to cry...
When your buzzing with so much power and conviction a positive choice you can make: but when youre down, your voice goes faint and you start feeling insecure its just as easy that same choice to break. If your eyes get forced open in the morning due to anxiety, that is round about then when you face a different reality. Everythings just so far wrong and completely fucking twisted, look at the bright side: atleast up your arse your not getting fisted. Well sometime you have to get up and start to push and with all this bitching and complaining for once you can just shush...

"I don't do drugs. I am drugs."

Salvador Dalí

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