No Happy Medium
There is no happy medium to an addiction like this,
but I feel its power
when I put the aluminum can to my lips.
I take a big breath
before I take a big gulp
because I know as it goes down
it will surely brun my throat.
I admire the red letters
written across the can.
I trace them with my fingers
as I hold it in my hand;
but it's that black cursive type
that hangs higher to the right
that gives it a wonderful taste
and makes me a slave in this life.
Maybe you guessed it,
perhaps, maybe not.
It's not everyones first choice
and I've learned to not be shocked,
becasue I have enough love for it
as I slowly strut across the floor
and fill my cup up with just a little bit more.
I hover my finger over
the now touchscreen dispenser,
click on 'Diet Coke' as if it could ever be suspenseful.
I'm not sure what is in it,
but it feels something like a drug.
It gets me high
and then low
but I can't stop the love.
People don't always understand exactly how I feel,
but they nod their head at nicotine
and the gambler's appeal.
My defense is it's no different,
wait, I take that back;
it is better than any cigarette pack.
I wake up with a craving
and routinely go to the fridge,
I go to sleep with a headache
and this is my life I live.
It has engraved itself into my image,
taking its place in my hand.
All my friends laugh because they expect it
as if it were planned.
Of course it has its perks
that outweigh its cons.
No matter what though,
I always drink it until it's gone.
I feel as if it runs through my veins
and bubbles up my blood
giving me this sort of energy
that I can't get enough of.
Maybe it's just a fetish, or an excessive commitment
because I would never settle for anything different.
Maybe this addiction will get the best of me,
but I can't live without it
so just let us be.