Cold ( A poem on Addiction)

In active addiction

my actions were icy

a hint of friction

and my heart would turn frigid

Frosty and Frozen

Was always exposed

I was a mobile ice sculpture

Cold enough to see every breath

As worthless

as ice-cubes in a blizzard





Tears frozen

Icecicle eyes

in my inner igloo

I would reside

frost on the windows

to my soul

spirituality homeless

a drift in the snow

my mind vacant

locked out in the cold

Words said on my breath

every live, every theft

every misdeed, every misstep

another layer of sleet

on my soul.


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