I'm so sick of this stupid sweet sugar
Syrup sticking soft on our lips. I hate
The half-hour high and your perfect purr
As the rush lets us pretend we relate.
Climbing up up up up up as if we
Don't realize each meter we ascend
Will contribute to the velocity
Of our catastrophic collapse. Pretend
That come-down isn't inevitable.
Pretend we can fly on these weary wings.
I don't want a sugar high, unstable
And without nourishment. Bring me the things
That will stick to my ribs. I will sink my
Teeth into the meat and tell you goodbye.