What is compulsion? A comfort unchecked? Sucked down and into when you fall through the cracks of your motivations. The taste you like, but you wonder if you really like this much? Enough for how little it takes. A semi-automatic hair-trigger spitting round after merry-go-round. The next is always immediately ready. A kind of absorbing satisfaction that distracts from the bartering trade off of time. An overriding warmth comes into focus, but in the back of the blurred frame a dark figure hangs just visible, watching you sink. And although your focus is drawn away, it’s peripheral imprint reminds you to feel the physics of your distracted descension.
Quit Vision 