Happiness is My Drug

The veins of expression, in state of austerity.

The drug of obsession, still sought with severity.

The frantic pursuit is bogged with despair,

The ecstasy remnants daubed with err.

The needle’s depleted, the traces remain.

The presence retreated, the memories engrained.

The euphoric sensation, emotionally thwarted.

The attainable elucidation is perplexed and distorted.

My addiction is plain, happiness my fixation.

My ability to obtain, manifested in desolation.

And so I remain enslaved to humanistic desires.

Immersed in cessation and what the future transpires.