Pulpit

i have been waking up with blood in my mouth most days.
chocking on the metallic taste that coats my tongue.
can't remeber if i promised today would hr 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.

The first time i contemplated death, I was 13.
took a knife from my kitchen counter,
I did not know hot to perceive this.

After eight, nine years of dealing with these thoughts
I couldn't comprehend why i was feeling this way.

For the longest time i contemplated death as the only escape
and the only way to make myself rid of the feelings i have felt.

I've lost to many friends to feel that way anymore,
to know that my life is not a continuation of theirs.
So i sit at home, and i waste away
and i grow tired of the things i love.