New York

I got a little bit addicted
is the thing
a little shaky without
the reassurance
the sensation
of the trance-like state
defacing reality
mal-portraying me

I got dragged to the edge
of a cliff
they never pushed
nor let me fall
– or jump?
(how am I supposed to know.)
they just waited
so what was I supposed to do
if not the exact same thing?

I started waking up
first to a buzzing
lingering hunger
then after mornings
would just tumble
out of sheets still sticky
like my own skin
head already throbbing
with need
wanting so bad
to not want at all

would that make me

we can hope
it’s what people
seem to do a lot
and historically
and aspiringly,

we can hope
that addiction becomes
an afterthought
a little hum that guides you
a little less
than it does rule you

it’s fear, isn’t it?
that anchors you
to the old ways
taking away any
chance at prospect
a chanting of
“it can’t get better
than this”
(- either because you
deserve just that
I.e./or nothing at all)

i’m good at that, too,
falling back
into old habits
or just falling
at all

aren’t we all?
we should.
so much easier
not to grow
but to stay
rooted or rootless
or bound to collapse
than it is
to accept the sun rays
and storms and
warm nuturing earth
as just that
isn’t it?

so much easier
to tremble/break
from pain
than from love
especially when it’s love
you give yourself
so much less pain involved
when it’s just a punch
not a kiss that breaks you

wounds/winds you
opens you to your core

cause with love
you just might
never cover yourself up again

that’s why I got addicted
is the thing
I was never one for nudity