A raging fire, quickly spreads through the underbrush of my mind.
Heat and smoke are building, flooding the hive-like corridors.
Hornets are buzzing, soft cries droning, growing louder, as each second passes.
Instincts rage, screaming to run, escape this pain.
I long for something, anything to sedate me, before it’s too late.
Slick thoughts break free of an unconscious cage.
Whispers so quietly, one cannot hope to hear them.
A cornfield maze before me, filled with hissing snakes,
Poison drips off pointed fangs, poison fills the room.
They are all around me.
I am suffocating.
A pillow in the night, guided by the hand of my enemy,
An enemy I know quite well, or proclaim to at least.
An enemy known as me.
I am out of control, my actions are not quite my own,
Yet is it not the actions that make the man,
Define me as an addict.
Addicted to an assortment of vices.
Fire in my lungs to sedate fire in my mind.
A distraction perhaps, yet exactly a distraction, I crave.
Release I must find, else these thoughts take hold.
Dangerous thoughts lead me down a dangerous road.
I seek no cure, just something to hold me over,
Something to find me safe.
We are all in danger.
-Peter Brindley
An Art Collective 