Down bad

I identify with this consuming loneliness anytime I think back to the brokenness of the stars I looked upon as my only companion deep in the canyon of my active addiction, this sickly affliction inflicted a nervous disposition I can’t seem to stop sitting in, even sober and on the path to recovery I can’t fathom letting down my guard and displaying the release I desire in fear I’d set a fire I personally couldn’t extinguish, so I hold tightly to my anguish, choked up from the tears I suffocate and The game I play by plastering a smile on my tattered face,in hopes for a better place to displace all this malace hurt and hate, I can’t even remember the date I ever felt the grace of belonging rather than this fucked up longing for a shoulder to cry on, I lost the obsession to stick needles in my arm but the daunting haunting substitution seems to be me finding restitution to this heartache at the end of a loaded 12 gauge, maybe it’s fate I die a broken hopeless shell of a man, maybe it’s not, all I know is 4 months sober a better man I am but a better man I am not