I can almost remember the innocent days

When not one single problem had me fazed

When feelings were dealt with and not suppressed

When a defunct coping-mechanism didn’t give me the rest

When skies seemed blue, yet not melancholic

When I wasn’t yet a sexaholic

Love seemed optional and not compulsive

I reflected, was not impulsive

I can almost remember what that felt like

To be free of constraints, to not need a psych

I can almost remember the taste in my mouth

That was different in the days of voluntary drouth

I can almost remember confiding in friends

In their hours of need, holding their hands

All that seems almost within reach

Yet this contract, I constantly breach

Which I have with myself, more or less binding

Keeps me for affection still pining

Nothing can fill this void although to fill it I try

At the end of the day – huddled in my bed – I cry

Addiction has robbed me again of my feelings

Emptiness, headache, sadness, no meaning

I can almost remember the lines, intertwined

Different paths; many a pleasant pasture to find

Now as so often, I stand again at the beginning

When really, I am batting in the umpteenth inning

Addiction still brings relief

Addiction still brings grief

Addiction’s still a thief

Still robs man of belief

How dare I act out? How dare I not fight? How dare I? How dare I? How dare I?

 

 

 

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