Withdrawal

"I wanted to tell you that it's over. Really, this time. It's been a long romance - and you have left me with a lump in my throat and maybe a hole in my heart. You are always there waiting for me I know but you're killing me and each kiss leaves me gasping for breath. There is hardly anywhere we can go together now anyway and without you they say things will be better. Serge Gainsbourg, Bill Hicks, Humphrey Bogart, every French film I ever saw, every 1940's film I ever saw will always remind me of you. Clerkenwell and London will never be the same. Post coital langour, the drinking dens, the end of the evenings, waterloo bridge, Paris will never be the same.

We took drugs together, made love together, sung together. we even managed to dance together. You kept time through all those conversations about life, love, lust, longing. I shared you with friends, took you to business meetings, introduced your guest appearances on stage. I hid you from my family for so long but you forgave me. You always forgave me. You were always there waiting.

You make me burn. I can catch your scent - right here, right now

Will you forgive me this? For I am leaving you. Will i miss you? I hope so and I hope not.....

Yes, i really must give you up."*

And afterwards.  Leaving is easy. Staying away is where the real courage lies.  Each time I leave my mistress, Nicotene, I say it is for the last time.  Everytime is for the last time.  Yet, inevitably, I return. At my weakest, at my most vulnerable, it is she who I can always turn to. 

This weekend I flooded myself, immersed myself in her.  We were never apart for more than a few minutes from each other.  She has become more expensive to maintain in recent years, but she's always worth it - giving more than she takes.  I filled myself with her poisions over the weekend and now I am coming down - I feel sick, and dare not eat; sweating and shaking. I have no focus and I long for one more damn moment to relieve this feeling.

All said, this is not a good day.