Music Shrouding Misery

This sip tastes so familiar like sweet canteloupes mixed with red dye No. 4. My body's filter rejects it at first, but as with anything repitition wears it down. My problem is not with him though It is me My unquenchable thirst for disastrous repetitiveness. The tremors, the cold appendages the numb taste buds the hard to swallow fruit that has been rotting in the window sill of my own tragedy and i think to myself, "If i close my eyes and envision ripened fruit it will taste better" Half-Truths hurt the confused and i swallow Bitter Sweet Symphonies.