Consumption.

Waiting for sleep, so sick of these nights.
These hours spent alone, in quiet and death.
Nothing to do, except think of the waste,
the passing of time, and the draining of breath.
There's no longer strength left to fight this disease,
this malady entwined in my being.
Inseparable lovers, we're doomed 'til the end.
Devoid of all hope and all feelings.
Tired all the time, but no rest for the weak,
for the wicked, the stupid, the drunk.
There's nothing but shadows to ignite my mind,
nothing but darkness and junk.
By the time that the sun lights up the sky
I'm again too exhausted to function.
Another day wasted, lost to the night
and the drink and the cost of consumption.