"Cracked" - Lars & Flo Real

Discussion in 'Open Mic' started by Baron Mynd, Mar 15, 2013.

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  1. Baron Mynd

    Baron Mynd Swaggersaurus Rex

    Joined:
    Jul 16, 2003
    Messages:
    10,365
    It’s an intricate feeling, entwined with an eagerness yearning,
    Feel my ligaments burning, my veins are selfishly churning,
    Going cold turkey, seriously I'm weary... I’m struggling.
    I'm shaking I’m jerky, I’m tired fo fighting for life which I am turning
    around - The urge hits like an anvil but never makes a sound,
    I'm purging myself, my body was a landfill but I'm clearing the ground,
    But my hands are bound, so shoveling the despair isn't easy,
    Body says I don't but eyes show I care, wish the vice would release me!
    My own mind tries to tease me, my brains out to get me,
    Soul puts up a fight, but is knocked back with ease - I seek peace…
    I've took a step back, succumbed to the latest attack,
    Tried following the crumbs but cracked, an went back to the shack.
    Chained and bounded but I am here through choice,
    I'm ashamed, but I've lost all care along with my voice.
    The needle I hold up like some messiah is bleeding,
    I bleed red, it bleeds clear, it’s hot like fire an its fire I’m seeking!
    I fire it up here; the shack is my home away from home,
    Id fire it up there, but crack is better when it’s taken alone.
    I know they will be looking for me soon, probably my niece..
    Maybe she will finally give up on me, realise my disease is my peace…


    The needle secreting it’s evilness deep. In need of release, I fiend for it. Pleading. It eats at my features, decaying my soul, so it’s easy to see how it’s taken control. Its my reason for being, it keeps me at peace, but I’m eager to seek an escape from it’s hold. I’m shaking. The cold keeps invading my bones making me groan with each step that I take. My face unemotive. I’m dead from the waist. All that’s left of my veins are the blues from my past, infected remains full of numerous tracks. Where obsession became a dependency. Daily I’d attempt separating the truth from the facts and pretending I’d changed. All that changed was the dose at the end of the day as the craving took hold. Now my friends look away when they see me. Displeased. And they’ll read this and weep but my disease is my…

    Peace.
    test
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