suffocating, as though i am intoxicated,
i fall to the ground. i consume
the sight of you, & suddenly i wonder when you'll stop
pretending to be all the things you're

not, & immerse yourself in everything you're capable
of becoming, & the cycle repeats itself.

i choke. again
& over again, never able to separate my life & define
by boundaries without filing myself to the brim
with you & watching

your dishonesties, foaming & frothing, spill
over the edges, gurgling up through my throat
as i regurgitate all the promises you made &

i asphyxiate on your weakness, my vomit clogging
up the white porcelain sink; the acid of
half-digested citrus burning through the soft tissues
lining my blanket of ignorance & i am forced (not
for the first time in my life) to give to you
something i don't want you to be able to possess.

a/n: what i began, hoping for a masterpiece,
ended up being nothing more than another mediocre
wanna-be worthless waste of time.
(but the question becomes am i talking about
this bit of "literature" or
him?)

[this piece is absolutely crawling in old hurts & truths i was too stubborn to admit.]