an old man sits, stroking his guitar.
this is every night in my basement.
piles upon piles of electronics eminate radiation
these cancer-causing cancers.
addictions are not easily broken,
but an addiction is only a word.
just like pain is only a word.
just like death is only a state.

an old man sits, smoking his marijuana.
he is hobbled over himself, concealing
what he would swear was only a cigarette.
this is every night outside my house.
addiction is only a word
these death-inflicting hopes.
these paincausing reliefs.

an teenaged boy sits at a computer,
composing another chapter in his story.
words just flow for him, they
call him a poet.
hunched over his keyboard,
he boldly denounces worldly posessions.
he smirks at the fact that he just typed that on a $3000 computer.
these addiction-causing decisions.
these words that add up to more than words.

and more and more, life just becomes a painful addiction to death.

08/20/2003

Posted on 08/20/2003
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams