on and on

it's cold
no, not again
my head is splitting in two
i cant
i shake
and shake
and shake
i feel nothing, except for this pain, steadily increasing
as if hot acid flows
flows and flows through me
courses through my veins like my blood has been laced with lye
why now, i think
still shaking
fuck
theres no use trying to please it now
this fucked up mind just begs and pleads for more
and more
and more
shit
i can't take it anymore
this addiction will kill me
no more
it just gets harder
harder
it consumes ,e like an ocean
with no bottom
and the weight of the water
gets heavier
and heavier
with no mercy
i shake and shudder
confined to my bed
sheets wrapped so tightly
im suffocating
i cannot move
hunger
but theres no money
hunger
hunger
hunger
i unwrap myself from my tomb
and struggle
this cockroach infested shithole is
my
coffin
i stumble to the fridge
chunky milk
moldy cheese
i open the cabinet
stale crackers
i cut off the mold and take this measly meal to my room
and sit
it wont curb this pain
i abruptly shake
and drop the plate
it shatters
the noise reverberates
and goes on
and on
and on
a new person takes over
the only way to stop the sound
i pick up a shattered piece
and smile as i watch the blood flow
my vision slowly goes black, yet that noise
goes on
and on
and on

your breath was once a rush of an ocean upon my skin. your words, althoguh miles away from where i stand, once called out to me in a beautiful serenade, only made to be heard by the two of us.

what was once a beautiful companionship now lays tattered, ruined like the meaning of the words you once told me at every turn of a page, every rounding of a corner.

those words mean nothing to me now. i have become immne to the effect of them, something that was once such a big deal for me now as insignificant as the ant that scurries across my shoe.

our worlds crashed so perfectly together, but came apart so suddenly that i had no time to rebuild mine before you up and left. so now im stuck here, dazed, attemptign to pick up the pieces of the world that has yet again crashed around me. one would think that this naive little girl who thinks the next one is different would realize that a broom would be easier than trying to superglue each fragment of a dream, a wish, a goal.

yet, she lets it happen time after time, again and again.

unfortunately, all that will be left soon is dust.