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    bstreit
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    This addiction is going to kill me. It's a two way street and a collision in my head between needing to get out of the addiction but still craving it. The narrator is tired of being heroin's "whore" as it eats them from the inside out, and they lack the courage to keep pretending and fighting against it, as alcohol and weed are inferior to getting a heroin hit which they miss and crave.

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    This addiction is going to kill me. It's a two way street and a collision in my head between needing to get out of the addiction but still craving it. The narrator is tired of being heroin's "whore" as it eats them from the inside out, and they lack the courage to keep pretending and fighting against it, as alcohol and weed are inferior to getting a heroin hit which they miss and crave.

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Flag for inappropriate content
    9 views1 page

    Two Way Street

    Uploaded by

    bstreit
    This addiction is going to kill me. It's a two way street and a collision in my head between needing to get out of the addiction but still craving it. The narrator is tired of being heroin's "whore" as it eats them from the inside out, and they lack the courage to keep pretending and fighting against it, as alcohol and weed are inferior to getting a heroin hit which they miss and crave.

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
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    TUESDAY, APRIL 6, 2010

    Two Way Street

    This addiction is going to kill me.


    This addiction is who I am.
    It's my enemy and my best friend.
    A two way street
    A collision in my head.
    I need out I don't want to do this anymore
    I'm tired of literally being its whore.
    It's eating me from the inside out
    I try to hide it, to suffocate it, anything
    But the more I do that, the stronger it fights back.
    I'm becoming too comfortable in my pretend sobriety
    I lack the courage to keep pretending
    to keep fighting.
    The alcohol wont drowned it, the weed won’t suffocate it.
    They are both inferior to the hit.
    I miss, I crave that rush
    my drug of choice no, my Love of choice.
    Heroin.
    And like all love it’s going to put me in my coffin.
    Like I said, this addiction is going to kill me.

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