I am addicted to what I can least afford, I am addicted to the fancy man's drug. I have long depended on mint as they say suppresses all addictions. I see others grab a straw to draw from their soda while they live life the littlest way they know how to.
Kiss my lips, feel the rhythms of my heart though moving slower than when you made that celestial entrance into the hall. It's a banquet with old faces from high school but I bet none has had it this smooth, not even cupid since the end credits of Titanic the movie. Maybe I don't have a problem, maybe I just want the elitist lifestyle, maybe I just have the futuristic insight for a review of the price of attention and maybe prize of fame.
My demons, yes I got some. I inscribe happiness and pleasure on depression, I fight an unconventional battle within me, I risk my safe haven and inner peace for the sake of empathy and those who can barely lift their imaginary swords and worst of all those who are not strong enough to wield a weapon at a contest of wits. My demons engage my fear of failure, my thirst for my obsession - two concepts that never should be in same context.
At least I know the death of me would come from a well known acquaintance, a thirst even Stalin omitted details of its itinerary, a phase even Lucifer never thought through. Or maybe not, or maybe I would metamorphose into the class i rightly belong. One excluded from linguist descriptions and drawn from our innate expectations and expressions.
At the end, some temptations might indeed be sinless ones.