Hyacinths & Biscuits

Tasting Death *Reupload*

I have tasted death, many times.

With blood flowing down my wrists, the world around me fading in the back of the police car, waking up in a hospital bad.

My throat closing itself as the pills reach their peak performance.

As my eyelids fluttered shut and the paramedics rushed to revive my slowly beating heart.

Just to open my eyes in a cold room, needles in me, every ounce of energy drained from my body.

The water rushing through my body as it swirled my vision.

My mind racing and thinking "this could be the last time. "

just to wake up on the floor in my sobbing mothers arms, drenched and devoid of any hope.

I have tasted death, many times. 

The bittersweetness of tears and the copper smell of blood.

The blue tinge to my skin and the ice through my veins.

I have spoon fed myself the delicacy we call death.

Savoring each moment as it dances on my taste buds.

But it always comes back up in a pool of concerned family members and gawking classmates.

A never ending pool of friends who hug too tight but care too little.

I hate the taste of death.

Yet it is the only thing I still crave.