I want it. 
I must have it.
I must have what she has. 

Envy,
invasive as kudzu
blankets my brain
obscures all light
casts a putrid pea-green haze
on everything in sight. 

I want it. 
I must have it.
I must have what she has. 

Just as kudzu 
smothers the tree, 
this constant coveting
chokes all reason from me.

I want it. 
I must have it.
I must have what she has. 

Kudzu 
must be cut down,
at the crown. 

Roots 
must be scorched clean
with kerosine.

If not completely eradicated
the host cannot thrive;
this envy must be excised
so that I may survive.