I crave the decadence for what I cannot contain,
For my body yearns for something more than I am,
Tiresome it is of lacking,
It cannot remain to run in solitude,
Unfulfilled in a world of intemperance,
Begging for something more than what is offered.

No longer do I fear the feeling of an inescapable presence of emptiness,
Fulfillment is ever accompanying me in excess as I bumble throughout the harshness of reality,
Surplus has been said to greet one disguised as comfort,
Shrouded in an escape from cruelty
Yet never do I feel incomplete as the mentions for more adorn my mouth,
Not as a request,
But a demand.