You.

I swallow the dizziness again; burning throat gasping, trembling hands scrabbling. I pull you to my lips again, blood covers. Distant, torturous memories of desolation knocking me over. You ask me to wash it away; beg me to make it go away. I obey. I let the dizziness in. I have become imprisoned by your comforting, toxic, caressing fingertips. I am drifting away, gripping onto you. You are the needle to the weak, the blade for the broken, the rope for the shattered. I beg for it to be enough to numb me. I am addicted, enslaved, dependent on the sweet, thick dreams to consume me forever. I'm selfish and dishonest. Letting you back in eats at me and the rich, bitter blood takes up the bed; drowning in red. I lay there, begging you to stop, whimpering in your torturous hands smooth and icy against my back. I shove but you push against me, cutting me with glass shards. More blood. Kissing me again, you lift off like a stream. It's over and you're gone.