a blade?
It tempts me. draws my every glance.
It taunts me. mocking my bitten hands.
It scorns me. too weak to use.
It draws me. too weak to resist.
It tempts me to draw a scorn on my arm.
in blood,
with plasma and platelets.
with red and white,
red from inside and white from my skin.
it’s bad and good,
bad for my life
but good for a time.
i’m an addict and i need it.
so badly i can’t think of anything else.
the temptation draws on the addiction.
the substance wants the user just like the user wants the substance.
or more.
or that’s how it feels.
