It is amazing to me how after all the years have gone by
and all the past instances and crimes
and despite the aches or the pains or scars
that never healed,
I still have a sense of affection for the wild chaos
that comes when being bad.
I do.
I admit to the drive that comes with the sinfulness
which makes the heart beat
and the blood go through me like a lunatic.
I admit to this. . .
I admit to the truth of the line,
which I once heard in a movie years ago
which said, “being bad feels pretty good.”
And it does.
Yes.
I admit it.
I admit to the greed and the lust and the need
to poke the bear.
I still love the intensity and the adoration
which I have for the crazy feelings
of being on the edge.
And yes. I like the edge.
I love the rush of adrenaline.
I love feeling hotter than gasoline after the matcstick
breaks and the flames come through.
However, I am older now and unfortunately
my blood pressure is not the same.
And neither is my body.
My body and my ability are not what they used to be
But . . .
My mind is still intact.
And my desire is no different from when I was young
or new to the thrills of say, being bad
to feel pretty good.
There is no gift more amazing
than the gift of lust.
I swear . . .
I love the amazing disturbance of defying gravity
and perhaps there is something more to this.
Maybe there is something to be said
daring the edges between life and death.
Maybe there is more to this drug
than just the rush
of breaking the rules.
Maybe this was a sign of my rebellion,
which of course, I’d say these signs are more like symptoms
of something bigger or greater
because, yes,
I always want more
and more will never be enough
at least
not for me!
I used to think of my lust like a gun shot
and thus; I would be like the bullet
and let the fire behind me explode
and force me through the barrel like a white-hot projectile.
Yes
I love the feeling of being impenetrable.
I love the daringness of “doing it anywhere,” just to say
we did it there too!
I love the dangerous feelings that come with danger.
Of course, I do.
I admit this and dare I say this now, then perhaps
I should say this loudly too.
I am not alone with this.
I am not the only one.
I am more than millions and yet
i am the one;
Or better,
I am the only one in my skin
which grows by the inch
and makes me crazy.
.
I am only one of many who had the desire
or felt the need to rebel or be crazy.
and to be fair . . .
I miss my abilities to do so.
I miss my willingness to scream or say “fuck it!!”
I miss breaking the night and watching the sunrise.
and seeing clothes all over the floor.
I will always love the seance and the ritualistic feel,
which comes to me as if to add romance
to the violence of crazy sex
and I am fine to add
to an otherwise destructive nature
and insane plan to ignite the world
and blow everything around me
just to explode
(inside of you)
And sure, I’ve rooted for the bad guy and admittedly,
I’ve experienced the feeling of joy
when it comes to my thoughts or revenge.
I admit to this.
I do.
I know this casts a shade on the light of my truth.
My lust is far reaching and never ending.
and thus
the length of me will never bed
or go weak
I know
I also know this makes me nothing more than honest.
This means nothing other
than I am equally human and also
I am equally prone to understand the rage we need to live life
I never want this part of me to die
even after I am dead
I want this drive to live on
forever.
I have no room for the old versions of me
and at the same time;
I still have hope that the younger version of me
will return and be hungrier and more thirsty than ever before.
I want my taste for lust to be as capable as it was
when I was 19 years-old
and loaded too
and ready for more.
I want this because now . .
I would know how to use what I have
and rather the weaponize this
or create my demise and destruction,
I can deploy myself in the wildest of ways
and you . . .
. . . you would never know what hit you
I was too young to know what I had
and now that I am old enough to see what I lost,
I am here to fight back and to fight harder
so that I can regain and recapture the most important
and valuable things in my life.
Yes.
I want lust.
And I want this more than just for the flavors of flesh.
I want the zest back.
I want the fire.
I want the rage and the ability
to go a thousand miles an hour
and never slow down, never look back,
never get tired, and never regret anything
and to have the wherewithal and the know-how
to harness this magic
and keep this
until the hour of my death.
I know that life only comes once.
I also know that we live and die so many times in our lifetime.
I do not question my worth
or whether I am worthy enough to be saved,
reborn, or born again.
No.
I understand that that life is only a small,
fleeting glimpse.
But what I have left is all that I have left
and therefore, if I am to fight back and rebel,
then let me fight back wisely
and choose my battles and thus;
let me choose how I bleed
and let me choose my suffering,
if it is right or just that I might suffer
Let me go.
Let me be,
Let me run.
Let me howl.
Let me go crazy with you, even if this only my last time to be crazy enough to enjoy it
I might never be young again.
But I know that I have it in me to make the nights wild again.
I might need a nap afterwards . . .
But at least I can say I lived
before I died.
The Written Addiction 