Metaphors and purple ink

I've thought to many things, I've read to many things, I've seen to many things, I've heard, certainly, to many things. When will I stop? Is this a fault that I possess? Honestly, I'm starting to wonder. If I take a pill, trust my life in a little white capsule, will my brain go away? And right along with it, the hours and hours of swirling, frustratingly clustered thoughts that bounce around my pityingly empty shell of a skull? Will I stop making these extra-long sentences, packed to the brim of metaphors? What even IS a proper metaphor?
I imagine the original purpose of one to be beautiful, almost alive. Carefully placed together bit by bit in the simplest of phrases, which would often be found in the most graceful of poetry. Ah, those proud, clever little metaphors. They'd be read aloud in someone's parlor room, probably by a cute girl, lovesick and swooning over the letters she'd been sent. Or, some metaphors probably would be used in a play, by Shakespeare or something, giggling in joy every time they were belted out in rehearsals.
As for now? Well, it's almost sad to see what some metaphors have become of now. Now they're found in the stupidest of all commercials, usually about some prescription for prostate medication, or PMS problems. Please tell me, if you were a delicate little poetic metaphor, wouldn't you cry knowing that you were being used in a prostate commercial? Ah, dear things. I mean, I can't even begin to tell you how many times I've been scolded for using to many metaphors. "You're too vague!" my desperate friends shout. It's like, I gotten so many nicknames from Leah just because of my prose online. And, it's all really silly, I know. The fact that I'm even bothering to talk about this kind of stuff in a blog is WAY beyond me. These whole past few paragraphs have actually been a mixture of what sounds like bickering, but is really just my thoughts and ponders as I sit here, a little too bored. :P Sorry everybody.
Truth be told, I'm not really even sure what I'm supposed to write in this blog. It was originally for artistic/thoughtful purposes, you know, something like this. Except, here's the thing, I'm now starting to think that maybe I should just give up and stop posts like this, under the idea that some might start to think I'm insane. And, weirder as it is, I don't even know what to THINK about lately. My mind has been under the same cloud of thoughts for the past few weeks of August, usually focused on the same person. A guy, to be more precise. So, I guess it just feels strange that since he's not in my head anymore, I'm at a loss of what to think about.
Hm, well...Until my mind has restarted itself back into whatever it used to think about, I guess I'm stuck pondering about metaphors, and the rest of everything else, which I call purple ink.

As the ink spilled all over my tongue
My mouth to his lips
Black like poison
I'd won.