Taste of Poison

Everybody is going to die. Everybody has a due date. We are all like the milk you see at the grocery store. We don't have persertatives to keep us from spoiling quick. We don't have any of that.
It's a damn shame. I'm actually jealous of the products that can last for so long without spoiling.
My due date is coming. I don't know when, but I feel it.
An afterlife? I seriously doubt I'll be going anywhere good after my date is up. I've done a bunch of terrible things. I'm going to do more terrible things.
I'm not going to judge the people in Heaven or Hell, though; I got friends in both places.
I've had plenty of brushes with death. I've lived, but am I really living? The only time I really feel alive is when I'm doing bad things or I'm so close to death that I can actually taste it.
It tastes good, too. It's unlike anything I've ever tasted.
Or maybe I'm misjudging something. Maybe it's not death that I'm sensing, but maybe a rebirth? Maybe it's her.
Maybe it's that woman that will make me feel alive again or maybe she's the one that will be the death of me.
However, it doesn't matter.
She is unlike anything that I've ever tasted.