December 20, 2011


Just when you think  you have it licked,
have it under control and can dabble without fear of it grabbing you,
can moderates its influence,
it creeps back in
and you're sitting at your computer,
waking up at night and logging in,
using phrases like, "I just messed around on the computer all day,"
not really lying but not forthright either.

Addictions take many forms,
and they work;
they mask, soothe, or otherwise disrupt the low level malaise
that daily life seems destined to become.
Even poetry is not enough,
a productive day of doing things that seem worthwhile
even necessary to keep your life moving forward,
but it doesn't quite disrupt it in the same way
that addictions do.

What sort of a life have we created? 
Is this a life worth fighting for?
Are we just too smart?
And there's only so much living we can actually tolerate?
Surely, my addictions don't have an answer,
but at least they halt these thoughts.

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