relapse

And then.
Suddenly.
There you are.
God how I missed you.
I could lick you and bite you and shoot you and smoke you and swallow you whole. Slide you into various orifices. Fuck you. Fuck you! What the fuck are you doing here? Go!

No.
Wait.

The muses. That arsenal of torture and turmoil to break down the walls of my creative inhibitions. Are they here with you?

Maybe just a little taste.
For old times.

We’ll find a new way to do it. Together, for this one last time. That will be the trick. The thing that finally makes you love me.

All I ever wanted was for you to love me. All I ever wanted was to feel safe.

A little bit at a time. Like a drip. Friends first. Baby steps. Enough to maintain the endorphin induced ruminations. Serene. Detached.
Painless, save for the part where I let you in.

What the fuck am I doing.

Would that you were a drug I could walk away. Flush you down the toilet. Sell you on the street to pay the light bill.

You are no drug. You aren’t even real.
I created you. Like I created all the others.
You were already inside me.
You were never really gone.

Just one more time.
It’s ok. I can handle it.
One more indulgence.
I can handle you, now.

I’ve changed.