It draws me in
it’s sparkling white powder
beckoning hungrily

Just a little – it taunts
a taste that is all
it lures me with it’s deceptive spell

The twisting begins
low in my stomach
the wanting and then the needing

Tortuous waiting
knowing failure
stalks me upon each hour deprived

Within the darkened kitchen
tucked into the corner cabinet
the clear baggy awaits retrieval

My fingers tremble
in desperate anticipation
reaching to grab my treasure

Only a nip or two
I tell myself but soon
the entire contents are devoured

White powder sticks to my lips
I lick my fingers clean
the sugary donut is gone –

diabetic coma be damned
that was good!