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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #2255393
The real picture of addiction is not easy to read about.
Fog lifts, clouds outside clear.
Anxiety arrives before coffee.
Clenched fists, sweaty palms,
paces, killing time, can't think.

Addicts live by an hourglass.
Sand slides slowly.
Clock hands move like molasses.
The white rabbit clutches the watch.

Always counting; money, pills,
they disappear magically.
Forget showers, clean clothing, food.
Only sweet release is timed right.

The beast ate the rabbit,
now "It" needs to eat.
The mind screams "enough".
Not a sick game, this is his life.

On his knees, feels carpet, cabinets,
drawers, searching his mind.
Now on a torture treadmill,
going nowhere, run out of time.

The escape artist paints,
inhaling each color.
Now heavy in the insane rainbow
he suffocates in his own sunset.

By Kathie Stehr
July 26, 2021

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2255393-Living-by-the-Hourglass