An organised mess

I'm addicted to addiction

I love it

It looks after me 

I hate it 

I can't breathe without it

I'm in love with my enemy

I'm infatuated. 

The mirror is blurry

Not sure if it is late, or early

Say no, say no

my distorted reflection silently screamed. 

Even if I wanted to hear her, 

I wouldn't have. 

Even when I say no, 

it holds me down, 

it does not let me go, 

two dark bluish-purple hand marks, 

bruising my wrists, 

but only I can see the marks. 

I always try to walk away, 

but it begs me not to leave, 

you won't feel the same without me, 

and, 

I know it's right. 

I laughed at the mirror, 

my reflection sheepishly in the corner, 

rocking and crying, 

mad woman, 

i'm not even scared to stop, 

I am dying to leave. 

Impulse my pet monster, 

it feeds off my insides, 

the red-hot burning desire, 

to give it just one more try, 

just,

one more time. 

I've said that everyday since last summer.

My words are on repeat,

as are my actions,

I stop telling people what I am doing, 

I cannot deal with their reaction.

I think about all the opportunities,

what could I possibly do next?

What will fill my vacant void, 

that lives in my heart and head.

I think about it when I wake,

I think about it before I sleep,

I never stop thinking about it, 

the crave for more is buried skin-deep. 

I tend to find I babysit my bong, 

when I should be babysitting me.

That girl teary-eyed in the reflection,

I never did like her, 

worthless, unique to the norm 

mad woman, 

a girl who had to carry the storm.

Time to light up, 

smoke a deep-set puddle, 

make everything great just once more,

she preferred living in her bubble. 

Once the bubble popped, 

and she would swallow her reality whole, 

just one more chance to feel good, 

a chance to feel content with being alive, 

a needle, 

a prick, 

a joint, 

it's lit,

she purchased bullshit,

and chose whoever was fit, 

consuming anything she hadn't tried.

Mad woman, 

wipe  your tears, 

do not tell me to stop, 

I'm addicted to addiction,

stop pretending you are not.

I'm unprepared, 

for what will be,

for what will it be like being me, 

without you.