Ok, honestly, how many writers here feel this way? Maybe I'm not THIS dependant, but you get my drift.


Everytime I tell myself I don't need them
I lie.
Everytime I tell myself they don't matter
I laugh.
Everytime I look and see a new one
I'm in ecstacy.

Like poison pills
They are so evil
Yet so tempting.
My tongue,
Tipped with silvery words
Mouths them aloud,
Like the forbidden fruit
Eve sampled so long ago.

I must stop
I can live without them


No wait, I can't!
I live for them
I breathe for them
I worship them.

Help me.
I am trapped.
And the only cure,
Is to review.