Sickness

This is probably cheesy. Or rambling. Or something.

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This, this
this being
is so challenging
all by itself.

They told me it'd be
like a Sickness
eventually,
shaking and struggling
for every breath,
bleeding and screaming and sweating
for one more time
one more time
one more time.

Serious,
they put on the big voices
scared me into never
Daring
never living dangerous
or bad
so I would never have to catch
the Sickness.

And then, honey,
something happened.
Something funny.
I met you
and for a while, I
experienced
the greatest high.
I had rhyme, reason,
every time you held me
anytime, any season
And when you wrapped me in
your tragedy
the world would become
with us.
It was making sense.
It was bliss.
It was a new world-
reality-plus.

Then suddenly you cut off
the source.
You, my supplier,
were no longer dealing
in what I was craving.
And then the Sickness started.

Hands no longer
steady
oxygen no longer
ready
at my command
and while I lie
alone
shivering and
withdrawn,
I wonder why the stone-faces never warned us
about this kind of drug.