I think you’re lying to me.

But that’s ok.

I’ll take your sugar however it may come.

Unrefined and coarse.

I’ll stir it into the liquid of me

My veins will clog with the syrupy sweetness of you

Too much of a good thing can make you sick

But thankfully you’re often a prick

And then my blood runs clear

But my heart turns cold

But then you’re sweet again

And I lap you up

I wish you were honey

At least in that there is good

At least honey is pure

What we have is …unsure

And at the end of it all

This sickly depravity

These endless cavities

This constant lick and bite

I lose my senses I lose my sight.

(c) Slumpless



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