Addiction

The paint on the walls are already

peeled and spent.

For years it has been staying within,

making me its home;

it has become a true companion,

something of a friend,

holding my psyche

in its tight clasp.

If I need it, if I do not,

If I want it, if I do not,

it is always there,

ever nearby,

with its growing naked roots

and entangling secret branches

hovering and collecting

loose ends of my thoughts;

half silhouette, half seen,

knotting up layers and

cervices of mind,

throbbing and hammering,

till I am left with no dreams at all.

Now I wait to sleep.

Time is already disfigured and bruised.

The remnants of life lie on the ground;

hope, this time the sleep will be sound.

for ONE STOP - PICTURE PROMPT