The Taste of Black

Bitter to the tongue; like overbrewed coffee or ninety percent dark chocolate, a heavy lump down my throat, I crave for sweet water. Not too hard to describe, but not too easy to understand. Like blood, just not sweet. The metallic taste everyone knows, but no one can bear. An addiction, an overdose, never tiring, always novel to the tasters. It burns, it hurts, the pain doesn’t die. Like drinking alchohol, but deadlier and raw. I don’t want it, I need it. I don’t need it, but I crave it. Don’t give it to me, It’s foul, Give it to me, I might not live anymore. Poison for some, Elixir for some. Sinful for some, Paradise for the rest.