missing the past

I miss my demons
I miss the blood
The gore, the ash
I miss the deep, dark
Gut wrenching, late night bouts
Of depression
I miss the lies
The cheats, the bruises
The glass, shatters
Breaks, daggers
I miss stays in the hospital
And go's in bed
I miss those sinister voices inside my head
I miss red scars, white lines
Deeper, wider
inhaling, burning
I miss vodka mixes and wine
Being dazed and utterly confused
I miss insomnia and acid trips
I miss those cigarette teeth on my lips
I miss being messed up, an outcast and broken
Cuz without that break in my head, my creativity is just about dead