An empty state of happiness, nestled closely to the equation. Filling up life, like a grocery bag, what are you after today? The shoplifting idea of promises and Hope is nothing just frozen food. Eat. Savory wisdom and all we've got is plastic, that okay? Cups, all foam, but we probably won't make it either, please eat this dessert and talk to me of change, change that won't happen, but thaw the Hope I'm coming for you. Donating to the food bank of emotions, like the land of lost toys, 'tis the season to believe? Wish lists and electronic shopping carts, I cannot fill them enough with what I want - out of stock, armor up, the struggle of a whole new game put into play. Expired. Is this thing out dated? It continues to feel so brand new, but perhaps I'm used to the new me - used, hypothetically speaking we are brand new to each other, two people, ever changing, a constant change towards one another and they never seem to be able to bottle this flavor just right, put us in the stores just right, satisfy the fix, you could be illegal? Am I looking for something told to go away, the thing that gets you high and knocks you down, am I on one helluva bender, are you exposing me to the white lines of a bathroom which seems to run through your veins so naturally. I am a starving bulimic, devouring and throwing up all the ideas I have of you.