She showed up like a bullet through the door. Swift, direct and on fire. I wasn’t prepared for such pleasurable uncertainties. Intrigued isn’t the correct fact but it’s in-sync with the notion of my thoughts and physical reactions. She was a catastrophe, a magnificent piece of chaos. I loved it and trembled in terror all in one heart.
She used words, like hate, love, disaster, and fuck. Constantly firing off rounds into my chest, while she rode my erect intellect, imprisoning the willing. Her stares of Udjat would pierce my armor of self-righteous sanctity through the dark riotous bones encrypted with in. I was crushed underneath her graces.
Even now clenching this gaping smoking hole in my ego’s torso, I desire to see her, to taste my blood on her flesh as I devour her essence. I’m undead and she’s my maker. I’ll never forget, I’ll never escape it but I cannot continue to load her clips and stare down that hellish barrel with lust and trust. For she will only pull away from me, shooting me down, blowing my calm and contentment allover the brick wall behind me.
As the chaos erupts around me, I resemble emptiness of a blank canvas, novocaine senses and a badly stitched heart, is all that remains. I look into the lies and shred in terror when I glace behind these dark eyes. I see the truth and it haunts me, I feel the pain like a death riddled needle puncturing the veins of the fallen. Helpless, but she tried. She descended into the depths of my conscious hurt, shining light on the shadows, revealing the demons burrowed with in.
That kind of shock awakens the confined and stirs the wounds, gaping and spilling the demented soul. She saw me, she saw me like none other ever have. How could I continue? How was I supposed to live with myself after such sickness was released? She wasn’t near to tame the beast. She couldn’t calm the pain nor the roars and howls during the lonesome nights. I’ve leashed them and she wanted me whole and free….
How dare she make me care, how dare she make me love again. I hate her because she…she understood. Now no one else will. No one else cares to rip the flesh from my bones and fuck the wild-ling inside. She did though…she did….
The devil is real, more real then we care to admit. It’s home is in fact hell, a fiery furnace of hate, hurt and hopelessness. Hell, the moment you and I are in at this very time. The silence and separation. The things unsaid that scream so loud with in my heart. Hell is now, hell is my cold bed at shadowy nights, it’s the expected mornings accompanied by crows calls and still no you.
The devil is real, so real we tear at each other with scarring words, we stab, stick and slash until all the love bleeds free. We look inside, wanting to die, burning alive, feeling each flame of hell eats away at our core.
The devil is real, more real then we care to admit and it’s home is our moment, our moment of hell.
(I’m way too sorry)
Your word burns like a flame concentrated on the tip of a wick. The stars shine, the air breaths life. I shall speak, not because my heart beats the notes but because the lyrics have been written and I am but a humble messenger. I shall sing. Loud, triumphant and everlasting…
The circuits have been crossed. Silicone valley is no longer my playground of vengeance upon myself. I have become silent and still as I watch the electric current run it’s final course. Smoke fills the the empty space between these cold walls lined with veiny wiring.
I struggle to embrace my own smothering but it get’s easier. I’m afraid of this calm death. I fear I’m giving up instead of going with. Charred plastic creeps it’s way to my central processor, heating the pumping transistors. I’ll melt regardless but I’m happy to melt from you.
Burn that final memory, drag and drop what’s left of this dusty machine. I’m checking out soon. Sooner then you anticipated…
Bought fucking time.
I don’t remember how all of this started but the moments recall like star plays during a sports event or dream teasers like a movie preview. You smelled like sweet fruits and candy. A perfume far too young for you but its who you are. I liked it, it made me want to get close, not that I needed an incentive. Flash forward to the hug you welcomed from me. It was like you needed it desperately and you made sure to hold tight on to whatever you missed.
I can’t let go of how beautiful you are and then how much more beautiful you were to me. I didn’t believe in perfection. You made a liar out of me. I mean I love every scar, like the one from your child hood shenanigans, the bruise from your klutzy nature. I fell for them all. I was damn nervous. You were too. It was flattering and I couldn’t compose my grins. We gathered a bad idea together some how. We drank too much, shared our favorite musical flavors with one another. Robbing the ticks and tocks as time strolled by.
I guess you over did it, cause you ruined your blouse and my favorite sneakers. You were so embarrassed and I was embarrassed for you but I forbid the thought of you escaping this night with me. You came out in a old T-Shirt you found. Your hair was down and wet. Parts of it covered your eye. I’m floored as if the world started to spin a little faster. Speechless like a coma victim. You giggle cause you catch my goofy stare. I think you understood it.
The rest falls under foggy pretenses, a warm kiss on cotton soft lips, damp skin, smooth as shined silver. Controversial embraces and body connections. I see a painting amongst a symphony.
I woke up to city chatter and siren howls. It was a dream of Gods I thought. Until I saw the coffee blessed with a kiss and a number to retrace our steps back into infinity.
I’m sitting in the presence of myself. The hours grow long but the years die so young. I stare into the dark eye’s standing guard over the truth. Sort of a Pandora’s box but lethal in a eternal kind of way. Relenting and unforgiving, is something myself and I have always shared. Yet I fight with bruised and bloodied fists. I wrestle tearing flesh from the bones of a consistant, repetitive mentality. I want to live by the hands of death. Contradictory enough, I cannot for I must live first to understand the appreciative nature of a renewed end. For myself has come to bare wisdom of this.
Curvy sophistication by way of honesty from a life of reality walking in dreams, I fall far in the green ocean filled with exotic souls or perhaps soul whenever your eyes direct my way. Touching you would not find a necessity with me for I know you. A mother with all the love for those who need her but non for herself, a young girl watching attention pass her by as if she was a stop sign ran through, A career path missed from a look your mother loved and daddy encouraged. I know you, I have slept beside you holding your sophistication with in my arms, I
kissed every turn, coasted down the hills of your thighs, breeze in my lungs, gripped what Mother Nature and Father God blessed the world to nourish but somewhere as a dominate position we have torn what gave us life. I’m here standing alone but standing firmly just has my treasure stands hard whenever the scent of you makes love to my nostrils, when my eyes dances over your smooth skin with thrills, just as the violent nature of the ocean calms it self when skipping across the shore. The depth of your flower is not only tantalizing but purifying and I wish to baptize myself with your tears, my curvy sophistication….
Silence has never been so loud, I enter in a never ending cyclone looking for the end of the road but time has yet to deplete of sand. I watch the world spinning around me losing it’s grips from that what held for so long and I watch unmoved living amongst the lunacy counting in many. I recall the clarity that was once so crystal but now some how has been lost into a fog of doubt and discontent . I know what, whom I seek yet a void is never filled, a hole boroughs deeper, the sky widens further never allowing a sense of appeasement, completion or peace.
I hate who I love. You make me laugh till my stomach curls into knots, unforgiving with your warped humor. You then wipe over my glossed eyes of purest joy only to wash the blood off the knife in my heart. I think you enjoy the dramatic change in my face. The way the creases reshape direction. A new pattern in such a phenomenal pace. It’s fascinating I must admit however why have I been so lucky to hoist such a burden? You bully me to display such skill of pleasurable lust with the beautiful specimen of this great nation and what do I do? I convulse in disgust and wish mediocre was my reality. Isn’t it a gift? Or do I see the devil in the clouds? I love her more then my brain can compute signaling my mouth to voice. Yet you throw her away as if we never had a discussion of lies, truths and substance. I lay swimming in tears, drowning cotton soaked agony. Thought you loved me but I guess you love to hate me as I hate who I love…