I, the withered

I am weak
A sack of blood 
Split between God and the devil
Forced between choice 
Of a life with drugs 
Or with non 
And for this choice 
I am 
The withering dead 
? 
I am sliding 
Into hell 
Surrounded; 
Of the law
Booked into 
A cell 
In which to face 
All my demons at once 
Before myself 
?
I am imprisoned 
In the dark tomb 
Solitary confinement 
90 days 
Upon my own rock
A grey piece of reality 
In which I am curled into 
Having chosen the drug 
I, the withered