Pulpit

I have been waking up with blood in my mouth most days.

Choking on the metallic taste that coats my tongue.

Can't remember if I promised today would be the last, if so I lied.

That infinitesimal moment of my true thoughts will fade.

Overcome by my need for you.

I am a lie. I am a sickness.

I am decaying.

I feel the life pouring from my veins,

as I so feverishly try to shock life back into them,

The way you so effortlessly did.

Maybe I should just end this here.

I wish that the promise of learning

from their example would die on my lips,

So that my words bear weight again.

My sanity won't let me count how many I've lost.

Content only counting hours.

Carefully planning, facing no aspect of life.

As beautiful as this hole is,

I need to climb out.