It's a gentle tug at first. It's more like a craving for salt than anything.

Then it's an ultraviolet light:
better at night,
but fine when the doors are shut, the noise and the darkness turned up.

It makes the room fall all around me
like raindrops so cold they feel like hail,
but good hail
because it's a hot day.

It's better than a woman, because they're both cold as ice, but only a woman denies:

woman
is the gateway drug.

When first a woman made me want to blacken my eyes, blot her out so that she did not exist,
I found a new ally – one who whispered
dirty, dirty secrets
and saw my hidden talents
and buried me in molasses
and euphoria,

promising me sweet forgetfulness,
an end to the endless sprint,
and I ignored the fine print:
"until the morning"

It is a genie who only
grants three wishes:
left eye blacked
out, right eye
blacked out,
mind's eye
blacked
out–