wasted

I was there, my hands touching the cold rim of the dirty basin. My skin, its cold, its patchy and dry. Somehow I find the inner strength to pull myself up towards the monster thats the mirror. Slowly. Slowly. Then I see it, it's there. Staring. Staring. Staring at me. I touch my face, the radiance is gone, lost; now a sunken, pale outline of a youth that never was. I dont fucking want to but i look into my eyes. Strength, Strength. Deeper into my eyes, Deeper. The sparkle, gone. Now a pale grey, shadowed, hopeless eyes. Keep fucking looking, Deeper. Eyes are the window to the soul. The soul, the broken fucking soul. Fragmented fucking soul. Stop it, Fucking stop looking. STOP FUCKING LOOKING. Gone, I'm gone.

Reflection creates a fury, a fury inside me. Its strong, its violent, it consumes me. Addiction costs a fucking high price - the fury isnt satisfied without it. One prick of that sharp metal against my paper thin skin and the fury slows. I'm lost, alone, breathing shallow breaths. Praying, just praying for hope that will not come. WHY? WHY THE FUCK DO I HATE WHAT I SEE? The fury, its rising. Destroyed.