Angela Tian

Desire.

It is a crime.

I am afraid.

Afraid of desire,

specifically, my thirst for desire.

My friend,

the only reason you aren’t afraid

is that you haven’t seen its power.

It tempts good people to commit crimes.

It calls martyrs to die for their cause.

It blinds saints to their morals.

It has the power to cripple immortals.

Desire.

A parasite is reading at my brain.

The line quickly blurs

between the master and the slave.

It heaves my heart.

It swells my mind with trouble.

It expands my soul with life.

Desire.

The thirst I cannot ignore.

Crying within me.

Making me alive.

Liberating me.

Limiting me.

Why do I fight against the very thing I cry out for?

What is chaining me?

Desire.

It is a dangerous game.

It offers me its power,

giving me arrogance

to conquer all the odds,

and live forever.

My soul cursed.

Accompanied by demons.

It steals from God.

It drives me to seek,

but hasn’t informed me what to seek.

My attempt to avoid it is so keen.

It is obsessiveness.

This very attempt is itself a desire.

Despite all my effort,

I yield.

Without realizing it’s a crime.

I fear.

It’s insane.

I will pay dearly.

I have to avoid it.

But, can I?