We’re on first name terms, shame and I,
Like an old friend, comfortable in their presence.
I’ve tried many tricks to get away,
Running, avoiding, hiding.
Travelling so far,
Mainly down roads where numbing was the destination.
Sometimes, it tricks me, I believe I’m free,
Then, I feel it creeping across my skin.
Seeping through my pores,
Entering that comfortable place.
I feel it chilling my core, in my bones, in my heart,
Inviting itself to reside wherever it likes.
I try to befriend it “its ok, you belong here”
I shout at it… “Fuck off, cunt”
But shame just laughs in my face,
Taunting me with its tempting offerings.
I only know the old ways,
Taking risks, numbing, succumbing.