Inner demons

Relapse claws at my insides, waiting for a crack in my armor to expose my soft spots. Addiction’s pasty white skin and tremors wrack my body with an unseen vengeance. Withdrawal knots my stomach and squeezes every nerve ending that graces my body.  The demonic gaze of the next high haunting each moment sending me spiraling into a living nightmare. I knew I’d give in if I wasn’t careful. The bubbling of my blood burns my veins in foul attempts at my life. I’m disgusted with my yearning for the pills I washed away. I hate myself for licking my lips at the thought of my distasteful and repugnant need for the next fix.   I’m clean now. In this moment. My only hope is that I remember this chemically induced tsunami that threatens my life. How could anyone get through this agonizing process of torture and torment only to fraternize with this demon once more? How could I? I bear record now of the death that awaits me. I’ve seen the cold and clammy hand of extinction that lies in wait if I choose it. The personage of addiction is a gruesome sight to behold and the next time we meet he’s sure to suck me dry and see to it that I never grow old.