Numb

I always seem to fall in love with whatever will surely kill me;
from the moon and its breathless wasteland,
to that boy, whose brown eyes looked right through me.

I'm drawn to what's most toxic,
whatever it may be;
from the cigarette smoke engulfing my lungs,
to the ugly thoughts tormenting me.

I tend to drift towards danger- it's the adrenaline that gets me;
that first good line of pure cocaine,
or her cherry lips that lie so sweetly.

I've been told that I am crazy-
that I'm surely out of my mind-
I guess that's the end result of a soul as mangled as mine.

I guess the pain has numbed me,
and somehow, being numb is worse.
You don't realize how appealing drowning seems,
until you're dying from the thirst.

I've decided to stop fighting, and to let myself give in
to that glass of whiskey calling me,
and to her lips against my skin.

I crave something that'll fill me,
but I don't know what it is.
I need it more than heroin,
I need it more than him.

I'd breathe it in like oxygen-
it'd be like no other drug I've tried-
and let it fill all the empty voids
and banish the darkness from my mind.

I always seem to fall in love with whatever will surely kill me,
but it seems that death is the only release
from this numbness that's consumed me.

~Helen Alexandria