I am addicted to the feeling that

Anxiety comes with- the feeling of

Mental numbness where nothing

Makes sense.

I am addicted to the sharp words

That kills my spirit- the weapons

Thrown to me by those who do their

Best to shoot and paralyze me with my weaknesses.

I am addicted to hatred.

See that feeling that comes with not

Being used to be cared for?

YES, that!

I am an addict to negativity.

I love the rhythm of my heartbeat,

when it beats fast to

Remind me that I am still alive every time

A bomb is thrown at me.

Above all my addicts,

I dear being addicted to broken people-

People who understand what it means to be an addict.

Most of them, I have met on the streets.

We exchanged words that mended our broken selves,

We gathered around the bonfire the other night and

Purged the burning fire that has found a home within us

For moon years.

To my surprise,

I found folks whom I could effortlessly

Respire around.

The epiphany of me in them was amazing.

Bliss was shared among us- how wonderful!

Like a broken mirror on the floor,

It Is the same way life handled most of us.

No, not life, our families as adopted children.

It is said to preclude the curse if buried immediately

In the garden.

Most of us are the mirrors they forgot to burry,

Perhaps we germinated in wrong gardens from the start.

I am addicted to demoralization.

Downhearted City has been my comfort

Home for years now.

Masses have questioned where I come from but I have deprived them

The accurate address because I know they would forcefully want to relocate me.

I once tried to relocate to the therapist’s office,

It turned out that the therapist was also an addict.

Our session turned to a couples’ confessions

Trying to save their marriage life.

Our addicts were the same.

We toasted to being the upper echelon addicts.

I found alchemy in her,

We both lost what mattered to us

Our sullen souls clicked and shook off the space button.

The tangible vacuum between our souls were repleted.