The high doesn’t arrive softly—
It stalks me first,
Circling like something hungry,
It’s shadow sliding beneath my skin.
Then it pounces—
a wicked surge, sharp and blinding,
whispering sweet lies in a voice that sounds like mine.
My pulse spikes like a warning alarm
I pretend I can’t hear.
Thoughts flicker and multiply,
feral, untamed, too fast to catch.
The world glows unnaturally bright—
a sta...