The thing about morphine

it is not the high that i crave

nor the abscence of pain promissed

it is what lies after that i desire

I persue the clarity that can be gained

to amplify the things i take for granted

to feel the softness of the earth

and smell the freshness in the air

or the salt of the ocean

how precious is warmth

from anothers touch,

or the from just there pressence warming my soul,

and even that which sets my soul a blaze with anger

yet i cannot for get the chill

that shivers and tingles up my spine,

which spreads accross my heart,

reaching its icy hand into my soul

reminding me what warmth once was,

how for the moment it is abscent,

how can i forget the pain

that lets me know i am alive,

reminding me of what i have lost

leaving fear to remind me of what can be lost

and how oh how i miss pleasure

The problem with morhine is not that it doesnt work

just that it works to well

masking the pain of being hurt

in oh so many ways...

its craved by our inability

to handle all that we feel,

yet it is those feelings

that is the difference between existing

and truly living whether good or bad

for without those feeling we might as well not exist