I'm losing interest in things,
In people,
In games.

Indulgence makes stale what you once craved.

I'll use you till I lose you,
The timing is always right.
For when I've emptied the glass
I'll be scouting for the next task
To wet my mouth with meaning.

There is a fountain just for me,
When I find it I can begin my life.

As each source proves more and more limited,
I wonder if there even exists such a thing.