Men alcohol cigarettes lust drugs sleep age commitment duty loyalty friendship family money scarcity work dedication wanderlust self-hatred depression food clothes beauty worth risk anger loneliness god self
Every single thing.
In three short weeks.
When I arrived, I fell rushed tumbled plunged into love within minutes.
The weather, the people, the sprawl, the history, the Dream.
I never want to leave.
But I even prophesied, as I’m wont to do at the start of a new relationship, that if I lived here, I’d have to re-win battles long ago laid to rest.
I was thinking about my waistline and my wardrobe. But the thought was enough to invite the defeated back to the battlefield.
They rushed to dance on my skull in the night, reminding me in dreams of their terrible gifts and glorious aches, their sweet fire and bitter price. They slide their tongues inside my ears, leaving honey trails and bad ideas, tattooing desire on the inside of my eyelids.
And I’ve welcomed them.
I wake up vibrating to their music, eager to binge on the poisonous jasmine-scented air and evaporate into the impossible dark nights as I gleefully drown myself in an ocean of all I thought I’d overcome.
The city of angels has awakened my demons, and I cannot put them to rest.