Core addiction

As time passesyou fade intoorange London nightI return to my skingrateful at finding myself.It’s the way you slipin, get underneath myfingernails, inhabit thespace behind my eyestwo fishes unalignedpulling in opposite directions.It was a novel experianceat the start and I stillcrave it like heroin, butheroin makes me itchthen vomit up your gutsand I become benumbedin pink vapidity. While youunderwrite the intensityof your intensity.Maybe Boots would sella detoxifying solution,I could spread it on the skyand know you couldn’t find me,but it’s the fear that overridesoroboric warmth, collective suicidewhere egoless we floatuntil the end of time.Which brings me back to:time passes.