Cold Turkey

I’ve been through withdrawals before
and no matter how many
times
it sucks

you see what you crave in every
speck of dust
every constant whispering moment
the echo of it
repeats
every time you take your mind off a task and sometimes
sometimes it slithers in
and you know the pain of eve

there’s something poetic
about the volcanic heave
and dry need
as it comes screaming from your pores
a demand in unrelenting want

it’s so simple to satiate
just let your body
stop listening to your brain
realise
you’re not really in control

that your will
is merely a rider atop
a deranged elephant
and sometimes
that fucker
doesn’t want to listen

there’s a crack
a twist
followed by the unmistakable
sound of
liquid
filling a glass
it smells like home
tastes like silence
somewhere inside
my conscience screams