Fragmented

Days like this I am reminded of just what a brittle and fragile clay pot I am. When the thorn in my side embeds itself deeper, sends down strong roots into my soul, when I don't even have the words to describe the pain of withdrawal, of my weakness and utter need for it and my inability to let it go. Where is the mortar that makes these fragments whole, Where is the light that shines out of all of this?

(Days like this, I don't know what to do with myself
All day - and all night
I wander the halls along the walls and under my breath
I say to myself 'I need fuel - to take flight')