Making Hunger a Habit

It's as if I am sewing a garment, but allowed only one stitch a day. Each tiny loop clings to the last, so hopeful this time it will make good. But a hunger tells me to pull up my work. So the thread goes pop in my hands... I'll undo a week's worth... just to make the need stop. In anguish, I pull up another row. But no good taste lasts long enough to contain the swells of regret. I'm my own worst enemy, can I ever be trusted. I will myself... just one more try. But I know the outcome before I begin. The same as last time, the same as tomorrow, the same until time runs out. If only I could make hunger a habit. Then I'd amount to more than just unraveled string.