Comfort is an addiction.

Rational

Comfort is an addiction
She hug a weak man like a birthmark,
On his mind like a man who deny his race
When self-worth is on a race.

“Come-Fort”
Comfort whispers softly
“Come make love to me
I have some drinks and weed
In my cosy penthouse
Then your favorite meal will
Come-Fort
and your stipends will stick to my gun
Like a silencer”.

“Come-Fort”
His dream yell at him
“I am safe with comfort
I don’t like your straitjacket
as he rustle”

“It give you beautiful destruction
Come wear it today
and take it off tomorrow
Come-Fort”
His dream ululate.

After leapfrogging from comfort’s comfort
His dream gravitate towards him and come-Fort.