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.