Lust is the empty shell love hatched from.
Lust is the desire for one’s self, masked as a physical want for another, it is hoping and praying for reciprocation, affirming self-worth and value.
Lust is empty beer bottles, clouded thoughts, and broken curfews.
It is physical gratification and emotional annihilation.
Lust is a Top 40 song that everybody knows.
Lust is right here, right now, with no consideration for tomorrow.
A humid summer’s day – sweaty, hot, and immobilizing.
It’s a thick, dark smoke that fills all the crevices of your self-loathing.
Lust expires and decays, just like its root: the body.
Lust is everything you want and nothing that you need.
It is liquid desire, coursing through your veins.
Lust is possession – temporal and passionate.
Jet black, cherry red. Your favorite fear.
Lust is personal anonymity.