Perhaps the restlessness to reach for more is just greed.
Curl your hands around the back of their neck... lips, which can't decide whether their cold with fear or hot with passion, touch. Cautiously at first, but that feeling melts away quicker than the seconds.
The contentedness lasts forever, but the lies fade into truth.
The next day you writhe in your own distress... your loneliness causes you enough shame to commit seppuku.
The disease called addiction ransacks your mind. More. More. More...
and by the end of the day you're left as just a rotting, empty shell.
This is emotion.
This is greed.














Comments
--
--
Previous PageNext Page