Fiending for that fix, it's been so long, tried to quit but it's singing your song,
it calls you, it haunts you, you need to score
Just one more hit of that ecstasy, sending you adrift on waves of pleasure
Stick it in, deep in you, feel it fill you, coursing through your veins,
bringing you to that edge where you feel so alive
You miss the thrill, the rush, the high, you want it now, if but a taste
Your mind and your body at odds, be strong, surrender, which do you choose
That drug of your choice, it's but just a prick, you know once you hit it it's hard to quit
Just say no I've heard that refrain, but restraint from this yearning is hard to maintain.
I have of late taken the view that no matter how rebellious, unconventional, non-conformist we would like to think ourselves, we are at some point always part of a similar grouping of people. We are never truly leaders, but followers. Followers, I prefer to refer to us as sheep; because at one point or another in our life we are all sheep. This is a place to express myself, vent my frustration with the sheepdom, and relieve my boredom. It is my therapy for all that contributes to my neurosis.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
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