I look at the city, laid out before me, through a veil of tears, the living city that never sleeps, like a monster or a star. And I wonder why I did it, why I chose to do it,why I couldn’t stop myself, why the need was so strong, and why, when I gave in, it wasn’t even worth it all. Why , when it hurts me, destroys bits of me, makes all the best parts of me slide and burn and shrink and hurt and disappear, why am I addicted? It’s like an endless fall into a pit, and everytime I climb the city building leading out of the pit, a little more, I slip so many stories down, down, down, and there seems no end to the pit below, out of which the building grows.
I beg to be forgiven, I beg to be free, to not do it again, on my bended knees, I cry in the night when the monsters run, but then I do it again and again and
Despair wracks me, hope is dead. And I’m addicted. Addicted.
Oh what pit have I fallen into? What awaits me below? How far do I have to go before it’s far enough? Oh what have I done to myself?