Them Crooked Vultures

Convicted and addicted to not being alone…

I carelessly, thoughtlessly, choose my temporary vice..A night, a day, a couple of nights, a couple of days.. to call back in a year, to call back tomorrow…
to talk to, to flirt with, to dehumanize, to belittle, to release on…
to dis-respect, to be dis-respected
to abuse, to be abused

Boredom and uncertainty
Hopelessness and Comfort

Itching.. I scratch holes in my skin..
twisting and restless..I pick through my flesh
Anxiously, I scrape; (to get the bad out)
but the drips they suckle

Instead, of watching them go hungry..I feed them
Lest, they will I survive.

Aching.. I hunt and sometimes tie myself to any tree; to be hunted.

A destructive yet satisfactory continuum.

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