fiend

the surge, the rush,
the taste that fades,
but never goes away,
leaving me hungry,
thirsty for more,
always looking for
more.

frantic searches reveal
one more shot
(this time, at least),
and I settle back and
let it take me.

it's over before it begins.
already my mind is scanning
the usual hiding places
like a mental flip-book
of smiling faces
that turn ugly and evil
and consume my soul.

I rip apart each room,
a demon possessed
with ambition only
known by those
who have been
there before.

"I'm fine", I say
to those who ask,
who question
the red-ness of my eyes,
the dancing of my fingers
and the bouncing of my knees.

I'm fine, it's okay.
I'm always like this,
always have been.

says the fiend.