As each day passes I can feel myself slowly losing a part of my identity
falling into the black abyss of insanity
Once again this disease has become all consuming
eating away at my mind
I feed myself the same lies
stomaching the pain of this decaying body
Mind clouded by malnutrition
Once again indulging in this slow form of suicide

By your presence I am bound.
it must be a great satisfaction to always know,
I am faithfully yours.
I, held open to you, as a book you could read when convenient
light skimming and waiting room sitting.
but I, being never your favorite novel,
was stuck back on the shelf full of "I'll finish it later"'s,
whilst I've written chapter upon chapter on you.
Well chapters are meant to end and books are meant to be read
                                                    Right?