To the Broken Ones

It is not that it is forbbiden that it excites me.

And they say that there is more than meets the eye.

Even I am baffeled as to why I crave the tenderness of lips on my body, how manly they caress me, the glim in their eyes as they see me move.

Something about how I get high with the undying attention during sessions.

I am no different from drug addicts, alcoholics and gamblers.

The only difference I think is the after effect.

Stress, anxiety, depression and for the drama that fuels me.

Sometimes I think I yearn for the hurtful words, a fetish for tears.

The attention they give, whether it be anger, pity or comfort.

Its crazy, but then again aren't we all.

Is it Im manic? Is it a choice?

Addiction is the lack of self control.

The euphoria it brings is what keeps me wanting more.

No not the sex, that's merely just a facade.

Its how I get what I want, me having the control and you focusing in me and only me.

You see addiction is more than meets the eye.

It was never about the subject. You have to dig deep and read between the lines.

Now doubt my affection for you. Is it real?

I dive into paranoia, and you were the one who pushed me.

Remember this is what excites me.

I run things down of what hurt me; self pity.

I blame you and I know its you, but you never felt guilt.

Still Im filled with questions as to what your story is.

Im pretty sure of what's mine. But somehow there's a similarity.

Our lack of self control and the need to be in control.

That's how our love is, its always at the edge.

One wrong move and it falls.

This is us. This is our relationship.

A collection of uncertainties, stress and a taboo.

Because all we are, are addicts.

Ambivalent on the idea of change.

Are we a danger to one another?

Is it possible to salavage a person as broken as you are?

Then we make love as we always do.

And afterwards you'd light a cigarette and I'd ask for the pill.