Black holes

It turns out I'm an addict:

a spirit full of black holes

a soul in debt with the Glory

an unconscious wait

the last part of a drug effect

a stubborn craving for relapse.

It turns out I'm an addict.

It occurs I'm jumping from addiction to addiction

pretending to be happy,

turning a blind eye

to the screaming silence

 that reveals my secret loneliness;

isolation that sometimes hurts.

It turns out I'm an addict

to escaping, 

to coffee,

to hiding from myself,

to finding excuses in songs,

melodies  of frozen memories 

of anguish and nostalgia.

It turns out I'm an addict;

fearless, 

sleepless,

without any plans of conquering 

a promisory future.

It turns out I'm an addict

and you're my new addiction.

Hey, come here!

I'm inviting you to stay over

one of these nights...

Right!

In one of my many black holes.

Who knows?

...

You might end up enjoying my emptiness, 

and us, 

lost addicts

might enlighten the darkness 

of our unpredictable and twisted galaxies.