Addict(ion)

the distance between want

and need

disappears—

even the conviction against the choice

is a kind of obsession

with the absence.

and what that absence means,

contrary to the presence of “it” itself.

you aren’t free until the desire for

and the desire of have subsided.

~~

I’ve been thinking a lot about

addiction, lately.

how it is a kind of reverence.

how the desire is a kind of worship.

how the thing itself is replaceable.

how the need is the reality—not

the object of the need—but the needing

itself as object.

~~

what separates “normal” people from

us? (me, you, I, them, her, him)

the same thing that draws us together—desire.

what unites us is also what separates—choice.

choice begets heartache in the form of

disgust/ shame/ envy

“why can’t I…”

~~

the difference

is there is no such thing as enough.

“enough”

is a linguistic trickery,

an ephemeral feeling fleeting

and always replaced

by the hunger.

~~

could you write me a prescription

for loneliness?

bottle up the feeling

of a soft kiss on the cheek?

manufacture the sense

of sadness subsided?

if you could

put an IV in me

full of what being held so tightly I don’t ever

feel I could fall again—

I wouldn’t be like this

or maybe I would,

because that is also the distinction between

the addicted and whatever is the not

addiction (I couldn’t tell you what that is).

one, knowing the consequences

and pain, still makes the choice.

to hurt

to bleed—

literally and/ or figuratively—

while the other gets tired of the

scars, and stops.

~~

which are you?

the former is the lacking and hungering,

while the latter is the searching and,

finding no answer,

able to move on.

-the difference between you and me is you can stop-

what does “stop” mean?

here, there, then, now, tomorrow?

there’s always a tomorrow until

there isn’t.

and the former (and latter) of us, has to look at today, face it,

head-on, while the aching hunger continues.

until it will, or does eventually somewhat subside,

replaced by the fullness

of life itself.

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