He Craved....

He craved his life back more than he had craved anything in his life. Right now he was craving to wake from his 'day-mare', the nightmare he had for the last few days was now inserting itself in his mind during his middle of the day rest. He got more rest while he was awake, his dreams used more of his energy than reality. Staying awake all night would cause him to doze off in the middle of the day and bring his horrific imagination back to his mind's forefront. He craved back when he had regular nightmares, now he dreamed of what he had before. That was much more worse to him.
He struggled to open his eyelids after a few more unexpected hours of the dreams he had grown to hate. The hours seemed like days in his hated dreams. It seemed like days had gone by that he was able to run, that he was able to speak with little effort, that he was able to handle a woman the way he remembered he could.  The dreams of what he used to be able to do now were his worse nightmares. And he hated his life now for it. He craved the grip of a gun in his palm to end his misery. He knew better than that though, he had to face this new life with the same energy that he faced his former life with even though he knew it was a struggle. He craved the energy and power to do that, but his will was growing weaker by the day. His past had become more than a wish to be fulfilled, it had become a craving. A craving he knew could never be satisfied.
He hated the dreams of his past cravings that he spent so much time trying to appease. He craved so many women that he could hardly remember their names now. He craved being higher than the clouds and now he only wished he could be walking evenly on the ground. He craved living his own life before but now craved the thought of being significant in someone else's. His craving had become his own personal solitary confinement. It was like he was in prison. He was, in the confinement of his own mind. He craved freedom.
He finally was able to force his eyelids open. The crust built up on them was the result of his tears while he slept. He would cry in his dreams. Cry from the memories of having a life. Cry from the memories of being able to live his life the way he wished to. It was all just a dream now. He moved one of the few body parts he still had complete control over, his head. He looked to left for the bedpan that was just out of his reach. He craved 'Go-Go Gadget' arms to be able to reach the pan so he could relieve himself into it. He never was a fan of hospitals before, but now he had a new appreciation of his dislike for them. Now he hated them, especially the one he was in.
His heart and mind was burdened with the thoughts of what he had planned for his life. His jail cell of a mind, was flooded with the hopes that engulfed him when he was younger in age and of mind. It was so ironic to him how just a short time ago he was devoted to the thought of fulfilling his dreams he had since childhood. He lusted the taste of being so close to his dreams. He was trapped in a new body that wouldn't allow for him to do anything more than wish, lust, and dream.
He craved other things when he was younger too. Many of which, he was reluctant to bring back to memory. But he had no choice though, they were some of the reasons that he was in his present situation. As much as he tried to keep them out of his head. he couldn't help but think to himself 'What If'. He couldn't help but think to himself 'What if' he had paid attention to his first reaction to a cigarette. Just like anybody else, his body's first reaction was to cough. Not only cough, but damn near cough up a lung. He craved the ability to go back in time to change his persistence to heading the warning that was given to him. The warning of his first cough that told him that he wasn't meant to inhale such poisons. He craved his reaction from that first inhalation back.
He hungered for the many years that he was an addict to those same cigarettes that caused him to smoke more than a pack a day. He longed for the wisdom in his younger years that he had in his youth. He wished he would have taken the advice he heard from many saying it was not something good for him. He craved to go back to that time. He craved with an empty filling because he knew that such cravings could never be fulfilled. He would stay empty with the same cravings that he had now, only in a worse condition than he wished he could see himself in.
The same strength that he did what he wanted to do, he craved that he was able to resist those simple temptations and do simple things that he never thought he would miss. He missed being able to tell the ones he loved that he loved them, without having to write it down. His throat burned with the mere thought of moving his vocal chords to say what he truly felt. He craved the laugh of people around him after he would say a simple thought that came to mind, whether intended to be funny or not. He loved to make others laugh and wished that he had that simple ability again. He craved it.
He hungered for the chance to hug his children who came to visit him often in the hospital. His mouth was parched with the taste for physical affection that he took for granted just a few months before. He wanted to hold them and tell them all the secrets he had been hiding inside of himself up to this point. He craved the opportunity to tell them what he had learned in his life. He hurt inside for the loss of ability to do this. he craved for more than he was able to give.
As much as he thought about it, he craved for the opportunity to go back and apologize to the women he had done wrong though his years of not giving a damn about anyone but himself. He wished he could talk to them all one on one and tell them that he was sorry. It hurt his heart to think that some man may be doing his daughter the same way that he did other women in the past. He cried inside and out whenever he tried to tell her to be careful with her heart because he knew that she didn't understand anything he tried to say at this time. When he thought of such things, it brought the thought of him palming a high caliber handgun and reliving himself but he knew that would solve nothing and only cause more pain and confusion. He craved the ability to tell her what his heart felt.
He could drown himself with the cravings of his heart. His heart could easily b e flooded with the worries and thoughts that he wished he could communicate. He craved the strength to be able to do any of these things. But even more he craved the power to tell him family he loved them and things would be okay. If only they would remember to not let their cravings drown out their actions for Living for the moment....
He craved the thoughts of an older man in a younger man's body. His cravings would never be filled. He craved otherwise though.    He wished he could do what he thought now when he was able to.

Don't let cravings undermine your actions.