One day,
I swallowed up the void.
Not too much at first, I didn't want to be greedy.
But enough that it grew into my hair,
turning it black.
I swallowed up the void again.
It settled heavy in my gut.
It was sweet at first, then gave way to an unsettling metallic aftertaste.
Still, it was addicting, intoxicating.
I needed more.
I swallowed up the void again,
hungry for empty.
The void is not black,
like so many others say.
No, the void is, in fact, a kaleidoscope of brilliant color
I swallowed up the void again.
There seemed to be an endless amount.
My eyes showed me what I had previously been blind to.
I could see the void others swallowed up.
His denim jacket wasn't for fashion some days.
I swallowed up the void again.
This time, it caught in my throat.
I gagged and my body convulsed,
an unsuccessful attempt to rid of the poison.
The void coated my lungs, stealing my breath, my life.
I thought I swallowed up the void,
but the void had swallowed up me.