My porselain friend

I was a few months clean,
From the thing i did.
With my best friend who’s coathed in porselain.
My hands around his cold white coath.
Three of my reddish warm fingers find their way to my mouth who opened and i slidded them slightly through the back of my throath. Sometimes even farther.
My body shockes itself up and down and my ribs make a slight movement in and up.
I thighten my grib on the cold porselain and let go of the warm fluids going out of my opened mouth after I removed my fingers out of the back of my throath.
I’m disgust by my action. But again, when my fluids start to end I open my mouth even further for more. More of the disgusting chuncks. Till the chunks become liquid. Till the liquid becomes yellowish. Till the yellowish stuff becomes red. And then you know you’re too far. But stil the desire of finding new chuncks gets you over the edge. Your throath is going to hurt more and more.
The white porselain, where your hands lay are not that white anymore.
Your breath smells like dead. Just as the red liquid with chunks in the water of your “friend".
Your eyesight is blinded by the tears you’ve given yourself again. Your head start to pound. Your hands losen their grib and hold your head, because it gets too heavy to carry. Slightly your knees start to slide over the cold ground and your head bounces against the wall. Lifeless you stare to the other side of the wall and let yourself sink in the coldness. Till you drift away for a few minuts crying.