Withdrawal Blues
Withdrawal is a clock with no numbers just a pulse you can't escape
Your skin forgets how to fit hangs loose on bone and regret every nerve a live wire begging for the old familiar fire
Sleep becomes a rumor You lie there counting cracks in the dark listening to your stutter like it's trying to quit before you do
Sweat beads like confession cold one second, burning in the next a fever that doesn't heal just reminds you what you've lost
Your hands betray you first shaking like they remember how to reach for something you swore you'd bury
And your mind your mind becomes a cruel archivist replaying the high in perfect detail polishing in into something holy while your body begs on its knees
Time stretches thin as paper minutes cut like glass every second whispers just one more would fix this
But you sit in it you sit in the ache, the crawl, the scream because somewhere under all that noise is a quieter voice saying
stay
Stay through the storms in your veins through the ghosts in your bloodstream through the version of you that wants to disappear
Stay long enough to feel something real again even if right now real feels like breaking
