I'm throwing up blood in the sink again.
I'll spend the rest of today exhausted and
alone with my thoughts.
My persistently pervasive thoughts.
My half-assed attempt at love
has left me unable to enjoy
what should be the greatest
success I've had to date.
I don't think about her like a
person I love or lust after.
I think of her as something I need.
She is my necessity.
My constant.
My control.
I've given her all the power over me
and she doesn't even know because
despite my declarations of love
all I feel in my gut is pain and hate
and bile burning into my chest
and bleeding out onto the page.
And it's not poetic. It's painful.