Desperate attempts to arise from conflict
Causing a cavernous and degenerate wound
Emotions unchallenging to interpret laying agape
Thoughts and feelings tangled and abstract
Unknowingly Im a senseless addict
The problems to brutal to address

I have no valid apartment or address
Most do not fathom the pain sleeping on the street can conflict
I have to repress my impulse for stimulants as an addict
The tension and hostility of my core will always be tightly wound
I try to examine the pieces that are abstract
Religion no longer has a place and love is no longer agape

A doorway to a church welcoming and agape
A small and quaint address
The faces of church goers become abstract
My morals and urge for warmth are at conflict
All heads turn surveying my wound
Can everyone tell that I am an addict

I itch and crave like an addict
An urge to flee overcomes so I stare at the door still standing agape
Written on my face is an internal wound
It’s obvious that there is an opinion of me the people want to address
My want to belong and my conscience conflict
My body is weary and abstract

I want to gaze into a mirror and not suffer the sensation of being abstract
I sink deep into the desire of wanting what I cannot have, being an Addict
Dwelling on wanting drugs affect my essence and conflict
My reality rests porous and agape
My existence relies solely on the covet of an Address
The cut in my arm a repulsing wound

Intensity and discrimination are no longer wound
Cruel waters subside and become abstract
A decision surfaces to make this church my new address
I choose to be a reverence addict
My anguish is no longer tormenting me and my mind is agape
Others can not longer distinguish my conflict

Holding on to regret and misery can conflict and develop into a wound
Appreciate and love only in an agape sense, refrain from becoming abstract
The feeling of being an addict is hard to address