The Urge, the desire, the addiction.

The urge never stops it’s an endless cycle. I can’t seem to control my hand it has a mind of its own. My hand moves like a phantom never being caught by anyone who should be concerned. The urge to kidnap objects with no intention of return courses through my veins replacing my blood.

The desire to get help will never be fulfilled I’m too ashamed. They will laugh telling me I’m a loser and through me in jail to become a pretty toy for some woman named Gerty or Betsy. The desire isn’t strong enough to fight and win against the urge. My mind no longer is in control my hand as succeed the throne.

The addiction is the best friend of the urge but it’s really just a bully. It persuades the urge to control my hand. The urge would be nothing without the addiction behind it. The urge is just a puppet the addiction pulling the strings while hiding in the shadows. The urge takes the blame while the addiction should be but it stays in the shadows instigating problems then removing itself from the problem.

I can’t shake the urge.

I can’t fight alongside the desire.

I can’t trap the addiction.

It’s an incurable disease.