I Promise It's Not Because I'm Addicted

There is nothing else for me to do,
no where else that i can go.
Down to my last option,
I pour into myself.

Hide in the shell
I've turned my body into.
The trash recepticle.
Looking out through
the eyes of my eyes.
Burrowed into myself
so deep.

My body has to smoke me out.
On autopilot
it knows the only solution
is to suffocate its self
to save its inner being.

But this shell would do fine without me.
I don't even need to be in here.

But it's smoking me out
smothering me
until i'm forced
to let myself come
up for air.
Nicotine does many things.
Number one,
It brings me back.