It's the wanting that slowly kills us.
Like a bacteria that lies in wait,
Never visible to the naked eye,
Slowly, convalescing, contracting and distracting our view,
Making us see wants as needs,
Putting hunger into our bellies when hunger was always an
After thought,
Birthing thoughts that were only passing dreams,
Making dreams into phantoms that hang over us and whisper
Possibilities in one year and realities in the other.

It is the wanting that slowly turns us,
Turns us so our view is skewed and our reflection is
Distorted, our thinking contorted,
We can no longer see one as one, but always as two,
A coupling occurs,
With peace, we always find distress,
We love, always hate,
With loneliness…always death,
And every breath becomes a chore,
An action unneeded, unheeded, an action of
The defeated,

It is the wanting that will put us at rest.