Hopelessness is an addiction.
I take that little daydream pill
Washed down with a tall glass of desire
Every single night
Just to make me sleep.
Lust is a drug.
There's something about wanting
That can lift me right off the ground
But when I come back down
I always feel like I'll need more next time.
Envy is my lifeblood.
Imagining her limbs, all tangled in his
Makes my eyes light up green
Igniting a spark in me
That keeps my head forever spinning.
Wishing is a disease.
There are things I want to know
That live beneath another's skin.
Those are places that I'll never see
Lines on a map that I only trace in my dreams.
Indulgence is a vice
In all its many forms, —
A sweet-tasting concoction of poison
And I will surely keep drinking it
Until the day my insides give out.
Bitterness is an artform.
What else can drive a poet
To bleed out her most ridiculous fantasies
Filling her canvas up with graceful shame?
Not another substance in this world.
Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 11:27 PM UTC
Hopelessness is an addiction.
I take that little daydream pill
Washed down with a tall glass of desire
Every single night
Just to make me sleep.
Lust is a drug.
There's something about wanting
That can lift me right off the ground
But when I come back down
I always feel like I'll need more next time.
Envy is my lifeblood.
Imagining her limbs, all tangled in his
Makes my eyes light up green
Igniting a spark in me
That keeps my head forever spinning.
Wishing is a disease.
There are things I want to know
That live beneath another's skin.
Those are places that I'll never see
Lines on a map that I only trace in my dreams.
Indulgence is a vice
In all its many forms, —
A sweet-tasting concoction of poison
And I will surely keep drinking it
Until the day my insides give out.
Bitterness is an artform.
What else can drive a poet
To bleed out her most ridiculous fantasies
Filling her canvas up with graceful shame?
Not another substance in this world.