Fix

4/8/2011

Waiting on my phone to ring,

Feeling like one of Pavlov’s dogs.

Your voice is the opium

My mind is itching for;

And something will get broken

If I don’t get my fix

Who are you to have woken

A feeling such as this?

You’re the drug I need to wean me off,

The drug I need the most;

Still no tone, this blasted phone

Is silent as a post…

 

Suddenly it beams at me

And shakes in ecstasy

It sings out notes of joy

As it lights up as with a smile;

I let it ring a sec or two

So that you won’t know

How much I’ve been waiting for this…

The deep breath I take before I answer

Is like the tourniquet beneath my rolled-up sleeve

I close my eyes, and press the button,

The plunger that releases you into my veins…

 

And I am in heaven,

For a little while.