addicted to the ink,

almost like it runs through my veins.

addicted to the daydream,

the one thing that doesn't wash away with the rain.

fantasizing in the daylight,

and blotted words in the dead of night.

addicted to the wanderlust,

no reality could ever save me from my plight.

the hardest thing is knowing,

a daydream is all it could ever possibly be.

addicted to the bleeding ink,

the only part of me that will ever be free.