a drink for one is never fun but a sip deadens the pain

This story is already growing stale
and it's only just begun, I'm barely
past the tenth page, second chapter
and still I've yet to see a character
of any interest being revealed other
than boring, one dimensional liars.
My days were spent in a perpetual blur;
drugs, women, liquor, wishing & television shows
is what kept me sane, kept the nightmares at bay.
But now my lack of possessions makes me ill,
in fact my resentments so big it's deep as a sea
where I'm left to drown, silently, gasping for air.
Told her I've known love, ya, been there before
but apparently I to am an unconvincing actor.
The lines I say are rehearsed and clearly
she can tell I've used them once or twice before
I tried to pass them off to her as original.
Now all these buildings and faces appear
to me nothing more than cliche and all to similar
to the days, months, years I was in despair
trying to find something that felt familiar.
The plays I read and the books I write portray
nothing but a timid pro antagonist which oddly
are the opposite traits of what I desire.
Medication tries to help my head be clear
of the cobwebs that have made a home there.
My conscious mind fights this my dear,
my bondage of self, this destructive love affair.
I have a wrist that is decorated with a scar,
so hard I tried but I think God clearly
had something better planned for me
other than my obsession with my suicidal goal-
Whatever it was, I'm alive for another day.
This was over six tries, almost three years ago.
Yet, still I sit like a stone, completely
still in an almost utterly immutable
inability to grow past this fear of living hell.
It was when my own biography became less a bore
than a crime fiction & romantic comedy
did I know it was time for a change, somehow
I had to reevaluate my life's desirable necessities.
Then, I poured too much faith out in your abilities
to save me from my own self-desctructive destiny.
Ya, when you said good-bye a part of me said it to
but the rest of me laid confused, silent and utterly
devastated that it could have been that way.
It was barely two months but it felt like eternity
to me, and now, no Heaven I envision could dare
even attempting to mimic our lovely chemistry.
Ya, no amount of pills popped or amount of ecstasy
can muster even a sample to what it was we felt that year-
the first time we kissed, when you finally had no fear
to hesitating over us, over what we could maybe be.
Your caress felt sanctioned from what ever lives in the sky,
each time your skin touched mine all those rotten days
I came from felt as if they had a purpose, a bitter
lesson taught early, first hand so I could care better
but each minute we grew side by side, forever closer,
or so I thought and truly believed, I didn't know
you had already had an escape route planned from the get go.