Stockholm Syndrome

As I exit the freeway and head downtown,
That recurring itch returns,
The type of itch only a syringe
Can scratch and my veins are restless,
Desperate for relief.

It’s an achy, “need to have it now”
Kind of feeling growing deep
Inside my chest,
Driving down familiar streets, passing
Empty parking lots and
Alleyways I swore I'd never revisit --
I feel nauseous.
Panicked butterflies are at war in my
Stomach, intrusive thoughts of
Relapse, are now
Clouding my better judgment.

Somehow I got lost,
Took a wrong turn onto memory lane,
One way, no exits and miles from escape.

Now I’m justifying all that she did to me,
I’m defending her crystals incessantly,
And how they stole my life from me --
Somehow I forgave her so easily, without apology;
For she was my captor and I simply..
Loved her,
It's Stockholm Syndrome
Suffered intravenously,
The obsession still lives in my blood,
It still flows through each cratered vein;
I can feel her whenever my heart
Skips a beat.

I can feel her claws digging into my skin and
My ankles are heavy with the guilty weight
Of her ball and chain,
Shackled and restrained, ashamed of the
Mistake I’ve just made.

Relapse battles recovery, I always raise my
White flag,
I always retreat and give in..
Forever bound to this addiction.