The need is overbearing.

The forbidden fruit that fulfills my every itch of vacancy. Driving me to insanity, without it, I live in the barriers of idyllic isolation.

One bite is no longer enough; I need it all. My eyes seach in hunger, and my mind lapses into an obsessed mode. All control gone when the fruit isn't in my grasp.

Everything is the path is abruptly diminished. I stop at nothing to attain the fruit; its value is beyond my expertise.

The implications it has on me once entering my body and soul are so heavenly. Pure satisfaction, pure joy, pure life; a superficial realm presents itself as there are no guarantees.

Sure the fruit is sought for perhaps only by my addiction. Somehow it's become a matter of agony; rather of annoyance now. A small desire of ridding myself of it rises yet no where near the level of the addiction's superior power.

The forbidden fruit-my toxic end.