Self Sabotage

 I love the sting as you enter my lungs. Every mark you make the more I take you in. The Worse the better. You leave your mark and damage me leaving me only wanting more. You both fill and create the holes in my body. I don't know what your doing to me, but i love the way you hurt me leaving me on the floor and hitting me while I'm down, hacking and choking, but I keep chasing after your high. I think the risk is what attracts me. The sting the smell the initial pain and the way I get used to it every time. complaints of worry and disgust are skewed yet I still run back to you and hate it every time that I do. My response is almost like auto pilot I continue to ignore and return leaving me on the floor gasping every time I return disgusted with the way I treat myself yet I always turn around begging for more. I turn to you in droughts of strong emotion a response for those who are looking for comfort, yet I turn to you and get the opposite, like listening to sad music just to stew in my own filth yet I never expect anything more.

NOTE: hello once again this is not really about anyone but I somehow made it seem that way. This is about how I burn paper in my room which obviously creates smoke. I continue to burn it even though I know I am have probably fucked my lungs beyond repair. Considering that I think smoking would be healthier because it both creates less smoke and is filtered but who cares and I can only smoke when I meet up with a friend with access to cigarettes. Im gonna start working on it and stop burning shit