Addicted

Its early in the morning and I am already screaming for my next hit. My next puff, my next lil bit of something to make me feel... good.I want to feel good. I need to feel good. I want it so bad I can taste it. I need it like nothing I have ever needed before. Yet once I am done with it I will feel empty. I tell myself that its just my mind playin tricks on me. Making me want something so wrong, yet so good in the moment. So I give in. I grab that lil green box and a lighter and run outside into the fresh air not even taking a moment to enjoy it before I spark a flame to this wicked addiction that is grabbing me from every direction. I take a deep breath pulling all the sugary sweet death smoke into my lungs. I hold for a minute. Or so. Then slowly exhale. My shoulders relax, my fingers unclench, my heart slows down, and I feel...good. I want to feel good. I need to feel good. I just wish I didn't need these damn Newports to do it.