The Cost of Time

You take the knife two inches deeper and one inch back. The blade in my heart that you stuck through my back. Sawing through my patience to see how far you can go. Seeing everything you saw but could never seem to know. A tepid state of purgatory where there is no life or death. You will neither let me breathe or draw my last breath. You flood my cerebellum with cherry flavored bleach. Then drink my pleasantly melted mind like a solid gold leech. Spit it out as your body aches with the exhaustion of existance. Dump it back in and let it heal because you have persistance. One day you will be big enough and each day it shows. But when you gain 2 inches on your your head you lose one in your toes. Setback upon stagnation the process is crawling. Loose words upon inconsistency the tactic is stalling. Bleeding upon trauma my heart and mind are falling. Acceptance and impatience my death is calling.