No Happy Medium

There is no happy medium to an addiction like this,

but I feel its power

when I put the aluminum can to my lips.

I take a big breath before I take a big gulp,

because I know as it goes down

it will surely burn my throat.

I admire the red letters

written across the can.

I trace them with my fingers

as I hold it in my hand;

but it's the cursive type

that hangs higher to the right

that gives it a wonderful taste

that makes me a slave in this life.

Maybe you guessed it, 

perhaps, maybe not.

It's not everyones first choice

and I've learned to not be shocked,

because I have enough love for it

as I slowly strut across the floor

and fill my cup up

with just a little bit more.

I hover my finger over

the now touchscreen dispenser

click on 'Diet Coke'

as if it could ever be suspenseful.

I'm not sure what is in it,

but it feels something like a drug.

It gets me high

and then low

but I can't stop the love.

People don't always understand 

exactly how I feel,

but they nod their head at nicotine

and the gambler's appeal.

My defense is it's no different,

wait,

I take that back;

it is better than any cigarette pack.

I wake up with a craving

and routinely go to the fridge,

then I go to sleep with a headache

and this is my life I live.

It has engraved itself into my image,

taking its place in my hand.

All my firends laugh

because they expect it

as if it were planned.

Of course it has it's perks

that outweigh it's cons.

No matter what though, 

I always drink it until it's gone.

I feel as if it runs through me

and bubbles up my blood

giving me this sort of energy

and I can't get enough.

Maybe it's just a fetish,

or an excessive commitment

because I would never choose

anything different.

Maybe this addiction will get the best of me,

but I can't live without it

so just let us be.