Love as crack...on bad men and kicking the habit

Love as crack....on bad men and kicking the habit

Dark MarylinSpacerI have never been one for taking drugs (too much of a control freak for one and too weary of my safety/environment). But I guess this is how withdrawal would feel: the jerky movements, the temptation to indulge once more, although deep down, you know it is not good for you (and it is destroying too many parts of the 'real' you, mainly the ones you like), the inability to focus your mind on anything else but that the itch you need to scratch, the bad dreams and your warm skin, crawling with ants underneath.
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The temptation is to replace one addiction with another to drown the noise with another cacophony of sounds. Or even the silly idea that if you have one last taste and beg the ones who supplies your poison, then it would definitively be the last time.
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One last big encore, the performance of a lifetime, then both can exit stage left and let someone else sweep the floor clean of broken hearts and minds. As the curtains close and the room fades to black, the audience claps thinking ''Didn't they do well in their shared dislike, didn't they show us what a car crash looks like, and how we gawped at the freak show and how well they played their sorry parts''.
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(''This was to be my final hit, but let's be clear about this. There's final hits and final hits. What kind was this to be? '' Trainspotting)