Mood: on fire
Thats all I have to say.
It's a compulsion,
repeated though I have just begun.
It takes my away my solitude,
for a short while.
Its poisons me,
stripping me of my self-respect,
but I can't stop--
nothing matters but the weight on my soul,
anchoring me to...
whatever this is.
I prefer to be anchored
than fly loose and free,
my mind always wondering on this act.
What I do is a pale imitation to reality
and I wish for the real thing...
the antidote, not the poison;
the growth, not the destruction;
to bind me, not just anchor me;
to send me into paradise forever.