23
December 2015
22:37
On the
fringes of the brain
insidious
cravings creep:
Triggered
by an infinitesimal waft
resolve
weakened, lulled to sleep.
Not now,
not just now, maybe
later,
should it get worse --
Stomachpit
kicks itself, gut
clenches, with the effort.
But there
are no excuses
and
nothing is reason enough
to foil
this repetitive attempt
if one's
made of stronger stuff.
And
though someday the worst will be over
The abyss
awaits always, a puff away from surrender.
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