Keep it on the edge of addiction
I never say
I can stop at any time;
I just do.
Not every time, though.
Selective select.
Every time
it's just habit.
No thought: I do not.
I unelect.
No bother, no need
- no want.
So then stop.
For now, for me
habit's just not enough
to amount to real urge
to reap like a crop.
It's just maintenance, then.
Neither art nor craft. Such
procedure won't serve.
I would rather sustain
On water and breath,
and grin and laugh
and wince, and pass
until time's glass fills.
'Til sour and deeper materials
salt with ache to pain, and sweeten
the bitter pills
of nothing at all.
I can hold me midair for some
time, 'til I choose
the moment
so fair
to fall.
To let go. To use.
While I wait for real urge,
I prefer to wait. It's a selfish
and disciplined mastery. Bate
one breath unsated and sure,
and breathe out. Take the next
as it comes.
I'll appreciate more
and more - when in finally no doubt,
temptation occurs.
I will nurse it and let it. I'll draw
it out as it draws
me in.
I could stop
any time, but I never would
stop any time
like then.
I like to appreciate
more than habit
and laziness has
on it to spend.
I keep it on the edge
of addiction, to ride so much
sweeter for all that I walk.
I look up in the sun, again
and lengthen my stride
at the edge of addiction,
just
a little inside.
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