Desire

[[.Disposable Dweeb.]]

Desire

It started with a want, the desire to be popular, the desire to be different, the want of independence and the want of new experience. Soon enough these petty desires turn into something far greater, something the mind can’t grasp, why? Why? Why do I need this? My body struggles to remove it from its system. My mind is having an internal war over whether or not to continue. I love the rush it gives me, but loathe the feelings I have as it leaves my system, and the cycle goes on and on.

Before I know it I’m just some other punk, in it’s most naked form. If it weren’t for my own cowardice I’d already be underground. Yet here I am, barely conscious looking up at my next potential fix. The crooked smile he forces gives me shivers as he approaches.

I wish I were home, safe in bed, only having to wait for the next weekend.

I look down to the floor through my tear-glossed eyes at the ill-fitting shirt torn and ripped on the floor. The shreds in the shirt make me think of the shreds of dignity that are taken from me every time someone walks out the door only to leave me with a few rocks and a cracked crack pipe. My emotional cycle at times like this are pathetic: Overjoyed at having another high, Self-pitying because, well… I’m just a punk and nothing else. But by the time I inhale through scabbed lips nothing else matters.

I’m high, it’s not like anyone gives a s**t. Nobody is going to go out of their way to stop me from being me… I’m high, I can deal with all other feelings later.


A/N

This is my first attempt in a few months at writing anything that is not for school. I'm really not sure how I feel about this and I'd really like input. I'd like to expand on this later on when I'm more comfortable with writing for myself again.

Fun Fact: For those who don't know, one of the many meanings of 'punk' is a young man who in return for drugs, performs sexual favors for older men.  

[KirbyVictorious]

le sadness....