The illicit substance flows through my veins and I feel the kick once again.
My heart beats not faster or slower but my perception of time seems to fade.
I remember when I was young and things were different; my blood was pure then, and new.
The freedom and purity, of a future without limit, seemed enough to sustain me.
Now though, I’ve grown, and cultivated despair; finding no solace in hope.
I feel the rush begin to fade as normalcy returns and I wonder when the next hit will come.
It’s too late to move on so here I remain, addicted to the space I once loved but now despise.
The parasites in my body who once made me feel good have eaten away my soul; I am hollow.
Edit: this was meant to be representative of a city in the first person. I imagined the streets as veins, and the people as the life blood of a city that had become corrupted by, something.. modern society, automobiles, AIDs. take your pick. It’s a city during rush hour, as the surge of people take to the streets make the city feel alive for a little while before reminding it of what it used to be. All cities become corrupt as they grow.