I have a habit
I stop when I get what I want
I can rest
The dramatic scenes then,
Before the habit kicks back again
The high comes back in.

I see myself in a habit
As a noise
As I am
Experiencing and identifying with it
Gradually becoming accustomed to it
Like going to bed to rest in a
Personal state
To wait for the noises to disappear.

Is a habit a sacrifice or
A trick
It can live only because of me
Everything I see is now only
My habits, on my outsides
In my insides
Floating like clouds
All being my construction.