LUXURIA: Crave, Want, Need, Still Empty

I collect yearnings the way others collect art. I crave affirmation like oxygen, yet when it comes I dismiss it as too pedestrian, not nearly enough to satisfy my particular hunger. This hollowness demands to be filled. I want intensity that burns and desires that leave marks, pleasure so exquisite it borders on pain, but even as I consume them, I already know it won't be enough. Nothing is ever enough.

I need more. I want everything. I am haughty enough to believe nothing exists that could fill me, yet desperately I keep reaching for the next affirmation that will prove I'm as magnificent as I need everyone to believe I am.

I am empty wearing expensive things, starving at a feast I arranged myself. I want more because I am less, crave intensity because I feel nothing. And still I want with desperation, needing something, anything, to fill my form, knowing all the while that nothing ever will.