My Addiction

My Addiction ​Just one more. The mantra of the starving, the itch beneath the skin. One more hit to quiet the ghost, One more glass to drown the sun. One more fuck to feel a body that isn't mine, A temporary heat to mask the coming cold. ​I bleed into the pages— One more chapter butchered, One more book built from the marrow of my bones. I am chasing a phantom I created. ​I need to see the jagged edge of his jaw, To hear the lie of his voice vibrating in my throat. Just one more hit. It isn’t a habit; it’s a haunting. ​The mirror is finally clear: I am not the person holding the needle, the pen, or the glass. I am the void they are trying to fill. I finally know who I am. I am the hunger that never ends.