Familiar receptors from an old me
Have opened up again
Begging me to be fed.

The great human condition of loneliness
Asks whether I will give up
Another piece of my heart
Or feel the familiar sting of bring alone.

It’s tempting to spend some heart,
Even in today’s tight economy,
For some relief from the dull suffering.

I’ve handled worse than this,
But being stoic isn’t always the answer,
And often its just being stubborn.

Familiar fingers run their phantom fingers
Through my hair and down my chest
And I realize my desires will stop at nothing
In their efforts to feed.