It’s addicting isn’t it.

Residing in that bottomless state of mind

that you try so hard to drag your way out of

lamenting over and over

promising you’ll

get better

be better

and maybe you were truthful

your truth

more or less

the lies you’ve

satisfied yourself with

they have you running circles

near exhaustion

a soon to be ashtray-

the diminishing embers of a once

breathtaking fire

now takes your breath

despite the struggle

the breaking and anguish-

comfort is found in the hurting

wading through

sickly waters

the silence soothes

your ears

It is easier to sink

then to face the rapids

without the torment

you question who

Who are you?

What are you without it?