Fetish #21759

 
     I've attempted to walk away cold turkey.  I've tried seeing you a little less each week.  It's pointless, baby.  My pulse slows down to a crawl.  My blood thickens into vermillion molasses.  My brain throbs as if it's throwing a tantrum.  I can not quit this love without quitting life.  I intend on living.
     You hold the violet keys to my crown chakra.  In your embrace, ideas fall from the sky like Israeli Manna.  With you on my mind, living poetry scribbles itself across my memory like God's graffiti.  Damn, I need you.  I can't keep up the pace alone.  I can't create at the speed of thought without you.

I did the math.

     The damage you do to my heart is minimal compared to the luster and brilliance you bring to my love.  The years you subtract from my life makes life so much sweeter.  There is a positive correlation between the health risks and increased productivity.  The symptoms of withdrawals include: dullness, boredom and losing everything.  (Bonus: I love triple-paced songs that fall apart in the end.)
     Turn up the dial, Baby.  Accelerate my blood pressure.  Step on the gas in my mind.  Make my eyes wild from sleepless nights.  Let's ride until the wheels fall off like Rockstars.  Let's enslave the world like Starbucks.  Let's buzz and build like Yellowjackets.  Sure, it'll shorten my time but you'll heighten my life expectancy.

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