I am constantly being told - "you don't even know what you like Alex you've been high for half your life".
So maybe I do like poetry after all.
I want rid of you.
An endless denier, I only deny her,
I am weak on my knees,
begging with bitter breath.
Forgiveness? For business.
She tires of my desire to be higher.
The liar extinguishes the fire.
Once roaring, she’s still warm.
Hooked on her feeling,
I grow hungry for her.
I hold onto her.
She no longer holds back.
Heroin holds my hand.
She haunts me.
Hope is my hell.
I wouldn’t even recognise her anymore.
I bury my desire, admire the high flyer.
I can’t do without you.
I don’t want for anything.
I want for everything.