>Nicot(i)ne Dre(am)s

>

you're keeping me awake
burning me away
you're bondage wrapped in warning signs
and i've become your
writhing
deprived
despondent 
...slave
you're digging my own grave
i'm one of thirteen million
statistic by your kiss
barcodes can't keep track of me
you're burned into my wrist
averting eyes
can't slick the lust
of embers, flames,
of broken trust
the loss of you begs more of you
your morbid stare can't cure
i'm salivating,
palpitating,
to say the least, i'm crushed.
detoxicating,
fumigating,
my front was not enough
you're keeping me awake and burning me away. i'm one of thirteen million averting eyes
America is no stranger to addiction. We're addicted to television, sex, work, parties, music, the internet. We can't live without our cigarettes or our booze or our little big cars or our nice suits.
Or our reputations or our dreams.
I don't think that anyone will argue with me when i say that there are bad addictions. Heroin is a bad addiction. Pornography is a bad addiction. But is there such thing as a good addiction? In the sense of physical or mental health, sure there are such things as good addictions. I know people addicted to physical exercise or any number of positive, beneficial things. 
But because they're beneficial does that make them good? The act of being addicted is, according to Mr. Webster, "to devote or surrender oneself to something habitually or obsessively." In other words, that addition becomes your number one. The thing that you can't live without. 
In the Book of Matthew 6:24, Jesus says, "No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other." Therefore, what He's saying, is the only "good" addiction is the addiction to Jesus (thank you, Carmen). 
But, Nicot(i)ne Dre(am)s is only halfway about addiction in and of itself. The title is the second part of the meaning. For within this addiction, I Am, one of the names of God, is right there ready to pull you out and save you, no matter where you are.

Hamilton Barber

The subject of this page is an introverted writer/musician/lunatic from Chattanooga, TN who dabbles in lexical dexterity, unorthodox thoughts on prosperity, and being overwhelmingly undeserving of the privilege of waking up every day. He hopes that everybody who reads these words takes them to heart and leaps higher than he ever could. He reads, thinks, and speaks too much; he listens, works, and loves too little; and he says “I” entirely too often. The words on these pages are not his: they are the words that were given to him.