blooms to dust

Im losing sight of
You
in this black and white
Gausian blur
of  timeless pain.
Im losing sight of me
in this blighted plane
of quasi symptomatic
existence.
Do you hear the words in my head
as the scramble to
untangle
the mess
you've left behind?
The pills still thrill
but acid tongue
does wash down
pain
again again again.
Rotary madness:
this rhetorical drift
of  love
fighting
life
fighting
worth
loving
nothing,
save for
pain.
Yes, again,
i ask of you only
to bury my heart beside yours
as the blooms turn to dust
and
the composition of our love decays.