Tag Archives: passion

Addiction in verse

Two plus two is seven. Three plus three makes nine. My math isn’t bad, I’ve just left the world behind.
When all I want is poison, and all I need is time, every wall is plastered with a face and begging eyes.
I feel it in my stomach and digest it in my lungs. When every breath is calculated, I forget what I once sung.
More is more for nothing. It exists in fantasy. In a place without consequence, I will let her lick my teeth.
I’ll hear her muffled scream from the carpet in the dark and do everything I can to let her tear my world apart. 



The pressure continues to build. It is escalated by every look and sound and lingering scent. It fills my mind, dictates my mood and influences my motions.

Then, she whispers. Her voice vibrates with electricity and pushes my pulse. Beginning coyly, her words slowly become more pointed with truth and more carried by desire. She ignores her inhibitions. I reciprocate her attitudes.

Apparent, always, is the risk. We feed from it until we are filled and empty, though insatiable. Every scheme is sketched beneath a vale with the care of a tenured tutor. We step quietly, then quickly. We dance until our breath is chaotic amid the sweat and sound and struggle.

She begs for more and I acquiesce to her demands. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow we continue, as if it is all we need: without thought for food, or rest, or feeling. Time allows our indulgences, and she consumes me. Then, we begin anew.