Prompt: Describe the seven deadly sins without using their names
1.) I am the twisting in your gut when you see others' possessions. The glint in your eyes when they have more than you, the burning want that sears its way into your skull at the mere thought of not having it all, of not being the best. I am a green monster, born and bred in the human mind, honed to be the greatest obstacle between you and your fellow man. I tear you into ribbons with your own need, your own want, and you can do nothing but succumb to me. You pitiful, weak, nitpicking people. You think you can outrun me by giving yourself more. But we all know that there is nothing you can do to escape from me. In the end, I will always be there, in the back of your mind, picking away at your sanity. How long do you think you can live with me in your head?
2.) I am the incessant gnawing in your head and gut, telling you to eat more, more, more. You shove down platters upon platters, feasts upon feasts, and yet I am not satisfied. There is no way I will ever be satisfied. I rumble and grumble and stomp and stumble, and you listen to me, you crazy, foolish people. You believe that if you keep feeding me, if you keep feeding yourself, I'll fade away like morning mist. But there is one thing you don't expect of me: Though I don't seem severe, I will starve you to death, leeching you of anything and everything you've ever known. I will occupy your days with thoughts of food, food, and more food, and you will know no rest.
3.) Gold. Gold. Gold. Doesn't matter if it's new or old, I still want it. You still want it. We all still want it. That is the core of me, want and need and perpetual longing. You can't get rid of me. I am everywhere, in your eyes, in your ears, in your hands and feet and heart and throat. I choke you with my bejeweled claws, chip away at your life and breath with my silver teeth. I am a lion carved from carnelian and diamond, a snake slithering and slipping through a sea of sapphires. I can take over your body with a nod of my horrifying, gorgeous head. I can make you lose your mind with me, make you lose sight of the so-called good times. I can make you drown in your own selfishness, possessed by the idea of having more than you do now. I will destroy you in the most delicate, delightful way possible: slowly, surely, and with the possessions you crave so dearly for yourself.
4.) You see them, but do they see you? Do they see the gleam in your eyes, the slippery black tar seeping out of your heart and infecting your thoughts? Do they know you think of them constantly, think of touching and kissing and holding them? Does the person you used to love know of my curse as well, or are you guarding your secret, guarding me, from their potential wrath? Or have you been alone all your life and are just now experiencing the fatality of man's most damning sin? Their flesh calls out to you, and you respond in earnest, whether there is another love belonging to you or not. You cannot resist the temptation, the primal desire, to belong to someone, and to have someone belong to you. I have caused the downfall of many men and women, and you...you are no different. You will fall, whether you like it or not. And you will burn with heartache for the rest of your days.
5.) I am better than you. I am flawless. I am a gold-plated god in a world of soil-made men. I am the galaxy, the very universe, spinning and whirling in a shower of jewels and fine metals and silk. I can do anything and everything better than anyone and everyone else, but watch out, I am easily wounded and not so quick to heal. You push me down once, I return with ten bullet holes in my back. You shove me into a wall, and I get stabbed in my side. I crumble beneath heavy words and sharp insults, but I build you up and make you believe you can single-handedly establish empires. I am your worst enemy and your most loyal friend. I am your hopes and dreams mixed with arrogance and confidence. I am invincible until I have an enemy, infallible until proven wrong. I am strong in you, pounding through your lifeblood and your heart and soul. I am your essence portrayed in a vortex of finery, glittering, gleaming, and gloating for eternity. I can be broken by a mere whisper, yet you continue to restore me time and time again.
6.) I slumber, yet I still find time to bother you. I am a nagging thought, the idea that you don't have to be responsible until later. We can lay down and do nothing, just rest, there's no rush. Just lay there, peaceful and quiet, doing nothing and thinking of nothing. I would sing you a lullaby to further your apathy and drowsiness, but that takes too much effort. I laze around in fluffy socks and warm pajamas, feeding you ideas soaked in warm milk and honey. It's not that you are tired, you are just full of me, full of the desire to stay still and not do a single thing. You are lazy, you are beautiful, you are nothing. I am not as cruel as my brothers and sisters, but I will steal your life away much faster. A life filled with nothing will yield only emptiness and an early, soft death. Do you really want people to remember you as nothing, a blank slate with not a single mark marring its surface? You will waste away into your greatest talent, into nothing. You think others will mourn you? You will have made so little an impact on them, they'd do well to remember your name or face.
7.) I obliterate you piece by piece, taking control of your mind and vision and washing everything in a sea of blood. There is nothing fruitful or fancy about me. I am primal rage, pure and simple. When your heart beats faster and your face flushes and a desire to burn the world to ashes overcomes rational thinking, I am there, watching, cackling with glee. When you feel so heated that your breath could melt steel, I am whispering in your ear, running my flaming nails down your spine, fueling the inferno in your heart. I cannot create the anger, only make it better. You think I am the reason for your problems, for all your woes and troubles, but I am merely tinder to the flame of your anger. You can put all the blame on my shoulders and still I will make you see the world as a hateful thing. You can push me down, bury me beneath garbage heaps of optimism and excuses, but I will return, soaking you in red paint, waving a cape in front of your furious eyes, like a matador does to a bull. I will make your resolve crack, and when you explode and lash out at all those you love, you will learn that you do not throw me away. You do not suppress me. You do not live without me.
