literature

of addiction.

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Literature Text

           i.   of naivety

when i met you, you spilt sweet words into my bleeding ears and plugged the holes so they couldn't spew back out. my too-deep trust in you grew on instability, sweat and the infection in my forgotten wounds.

"i love you," you groaned as your arms wound around me and my eyes shuttered into blankness. "we're gonna be together forever, okay? forever."
must exist, i whispered in my head.

you wouldn't lie to me. i know you wouldn't.


when i turned the corner, you were there, waiting for me. ready to grab my hand and tug me under. and i let you because you made me feel better.



           ii.   of denial

i drew our memories in red and painted the sky with my tears until it sparkled. i buried the truth under you because it crept up in my mind and told me stories of a disorder i do not have.
i do not have faultiness inside me. open me up and see; you'll find nothing there but a beating heart and the jail bars of my ribs and the home of my breath. and you will see how fine i really am.

[when you cut me open head to toe, you find spiderwebs and rainbow veins and the infected wounds i neglected]

so, i looked over my shoulder and found you grinning, showing off your razorknifeneedle sharp teeth. my feet thought by themselves and took me home, took me back to you for another fix.


it was march, beautiful march, who introduced me to you. don't think i'll forget our first time. it's all very vivid in my memory even when everything else shrouds itself in shadows.


"i need to sew you up," you whispered heavily as you stared at the line from between my eyes through my ribs down both my legs to my blue toes. it wept for me but blood tears don't count. they stink like desire, salt and home – it's a pungent scent that swirls up my nostrils into my brain and sinks into the dead cells.

so anyway, you brandished your needle but the end was bent sideways, a wicked grin with darkened promises of stirred-up regrets and peachy-tasting journal entries of summer-scented afternoons.
when i blinked, you plunged the needle through the jail bars and punctured my lung.
[i haven't been able to breathe for so long]


i know. i'm not sick at all. i'm just different.



           iii.   of temptation

you know, i think everything has a piece of soul in it, even the bread you're eating, the grass you tramp on, the fabric that clothes you. and yours has to be the only one of pure seduction and impulse i've ever seen. and held. and carried inside my heart.

[my body is a showground for curious eyes and honey, you're the main attraction.]


you chained my hand to yours and dragged me down a path that had me looking back with every step. what about everyone else? i wondered. where are they disappearing to? and it took me too long to realise i was leaving them behind with my half-faded footsteps and the speculation of a ghost girl.

drunk with uncertainty and longing, i followed you anyway. and i almost reached the end after three attempts.
too-blunt razorblades and deeper-than-i-thought veins. i struggled in your grip.
a wet handtowel, a covered face and lungs that twisted with agony. i wept my own blood tears down pale cheeks and remembered that just a few days ago, i was so sure i could fly with unreasonable joy.
a thick belt and a swollen neck.  and –


i ran away. you were breathing hot on my heels. and that damn punctured lung forced me to stop after a while.



           iv.   of desperation

the days grew longer and blurrier and tinted with blue-blue. i wanted relief but you wouldn't give it to me, so i crumpled under the pressure screaming at me for satisfaction, for more, more, more. i'm not the strongest willed person you know.
i succumbed to you over sixty times in one day.
and the next, it still
wasn't
enough.

it never is, though.


it is a craving in the bottom of my stomach, a desire at the forefront of my mind. you were my guilty pleasure. until the pleasure stopped coming and you were suddenly only a bad habit.



           v.   of abandonment

i quit.
i can't describe how it dug at my insides to not let you in anymore. it broke my heart to turn away from you day after week after month. it was like starving for days on end and being offered a plate of food, gorgeous food, and declining it.

[i depended far too much on you, i know. but like i said:
i have an addictive personality.]

the thoughts crept up on me again and wouldn't shut up. i was chucked out of denial and into a scary world where i couldn't even feel my heart beating.


you're sick, honey. you should tell someone about the swinging up, up, up only to come crashing down to break all the bones in your body. you really should.


and then you tiptoed up behind me until you could smell my shampoo,
and you grabbed me again with fingers that left bruises on my waist.



           vi.   of addiction

you don't work anymore, as a medication. you don't keep my emotions bottled up with a cork in the top. did you drop the bottle and break it and use the shards to stab my eyes out? and then, did the rainbows burst out in bubbles with overwhelming joy and bounce around my insides, while the blue-blue followed as needles, ready to pop, pop, pop them and bring me hurtling down?

either way, it doesn't matter. you've got me caught like the dirt under your fingernails and you're not letting go.


i have your instrument tucked in a pretty box, blood-stained but flimsy. you cackle at the healing scars, of broken skin and damaged nerves. you dive under my skin and poke holes in my hips again until bright rivers streak tears right down my legs.

but blood tears don't count, anyway.



           vii.   of entanglement

"forever," you breathed.
I have been working on this all night. And now, I just feel so exhausted after writing it. Or maybe I'm just tired. Hmmm.

On the other hand, I can fit my clothes again (mostly). What an amazing feeling.

And...I should stop talking about random things.
© 2012 - 2024 jikivigoig
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CherryFlavourCorset's avatar
Wah hey. (pronouce it like its spelt) I love this poem.. I've noticed that you are using a bunch of words together like 'razorknifeneedle'.. in poems... LITERAL WORD BUNCHES! I think this is the second time.. maybe third? Also the comment at the end. Never stop talking about random things. WOOH CLOTHES FITTING!!