I can barely hold my cigarette
without my hands shaking.
The puppet master that so cleverly
pulls at my strings isn’t at the helm anymore.
I feel threatened by his departure,
threatened by the abandonment.
My whole body feels off, no longer at ease.
My fingers twitch while lighting another, I become entombed in the flame for a second or two.
The same fire that once engulfed my body, all my sick attempts to cheat him.
I never meant to cheat, it just never came for me.
I plunge head-on every waking moment, there’s no need for it to come and find me.
I find him all on my own.
The next hit of my slow-burning
cigarette confirms my suspicions.
The puppet master is with me again, pulling my reckless strings.
Wild and whole-hearted.
My fears of what is, and what is yet to be.
What I truly live for.
I light another, and pray to no one in particular that the shaking subsides.
I chuckle at the conclusion and smile at my miracle accomplishment.
I can walk out onto my battlefield happy.
The will and fear to open my eyes and embrace this has never been greater.
I’m in love with my reckless conscience, and my reckless conscience alone.
At least until the adrenaline wears off, I still feel no pain.
Only a greater feeling that cannot be matched, duplicated in any form.
I’m in love with my adrenaline, the line I cross every day.
I’m in love with my adrenaline, everything else is just an object.
Reckless, you’re all mine.
© Copyright September 2011