NUMB: On Overcoming Addiction.

Your wit and wiles that once caressed my skin and tickled my sense's seem like limestone figure's. Graven in the courtyards of my souls gallery, works of art, images turned solid from age and Hope's waxed cold.

You hug me with mixtures of smoke and grime seeping into this clay leaving me baked and lifeless, veins of dusty cobbles threatening to stop this beating heart.

I stand here squeezed in your embrace like a life sized rag doll, grappled by a needing child. Hands stretched out by my sides trapped in a circle of your tight misguide, the thrills I once felt I have somehow left behind,
by choice.

Its funny how you left me weakened, needing! And now I see you and my eyes would not leave you.
I don't miss you.
Its disturbing how I can hear the sound of my blink blink, so static. I look at you and I feel your loss,

I am free...