my old addiction

my old addiction, changed the wiring in my brain, so that when it turns the switches, then i am not the same, so like the flowers toward the sun, i will follow, stretch myself out thin, like there's a part of me that's already buried, that sends me out into this wind, my old addiction, is a flood upon the land, this tiny lifeboat can keep me dry, but my weight is all that it can stand, so when i try to lean just a little, for just a splash to cool my face, ahh that trickle turns out fickle, fills my boat up five miles deep, my old addiction, makes me crave only what is best, like these just this morning song birds, craving upward from the nest, these tiny birds outside my window, take my hand to be their mom, these open mouths would trust and swallow, anything that came along, like my old addiction, now the other side of day, as the springtime of my lifestyle, turns the other way, if a swan can have a song, i think i know that tune, but the page is only scrawled, and i am gone this afternoon, but the page is only scrawled, and i am gone this afternoon