Greed

Anticipation,

my patience grows thin.

And it’s different this time,

a slow-churned blend of truth and lies,

The hunger, a fire,

a flame that won’t subside.

I am giving more and more of myself

I am testing limits I didn’t dare ponder before

I am tasting the honeyed dew of mutiny,

I am reveling in the forbidden nature of my own pleasure.

And I live in the shadows lately,

where hedonism thrives

I am pompous and arrogant,

I look Satan in the eyes.

And he guides me accordingly,

down the path of the unwise,

where I’m ushered into a madness,

a slippery slope, a slimy ride.

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hallow’s eve &parting grief

drunken clarity,

I know what I feel

whole room is spinning, 

I know what is real 

friendship and self-respect 

boundaries in limitlessness

you are crossing the barbed wire 

into the restricted, fiery depths of my desire 

and I cannot let you any further,

I cannot allow you to really know me, ever  
because I am not a second resort 

I am not what you can do when you’re bored 

I am far too much person for that 

I am far too well-versed in neglect 
so leave me as you came, smooth 

you were fascinating, intriguing 

a lovely thought in conjecture

you were everything, my darling,

all but true 

peachbonesūüćĎ‚ú®

cheekbones like peaches,

smile so keen

soul so beautiful,

so unmistakably clean.

       tongue like candy,

       body so strong

       hands so kind,

       an earthly charm.

A man with morals,

ethics and candor

with cheekbones like peaches,

a mind as colorful as reefs of coral. 

       He’s got cheekbones like peaches,

       I just wanna take a bite,

       to eat him up if he’ll let me 

       (and I think he just might).  

False Casanova

Backpedal,

For a moment, I forgot who I am

I forgot what I am worth

I forgot that I can stand

That I can run, that I bleed

That you are nothing to me

That I gave you an inch, and you took miles from me

 

And my heart is no plaything,

With which you can continue to toy

And you think you’re so slick in this game,

you think you’re so coy

 

But I am the Queen Bitch

I will forget you, quick fix

Like sand, you will dissolve

And I won’t even blink

 

Oh, you think I need you?

Think I can’t make it by?

Think I need you to hold me?

Wipe my tears, tell me lies?

 

Well fuck you and your delusions,

I will prosper on this throne

my body doesn’t mind the cold,

my tears dry on their own.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eve: 2 Seconds Post-Bite 

I am made of mistakes and anticipation,

Of regret and hopes of salvation,

Of a kind of loneliness that won’t dissolve,

the kind of guilt that can’t be absolved

 

I am woven of timidness,

Of the inability to decline,

I offer myself to monsters,

In hopes they won’t oblige

 

Because I am scattered everywhere,

I lie in pieces, so thin

And I can’t recall a time content,

In a sentience that feels so grim

 

Yes, I am not now nor then

Nor will I ever be,

I float like dust particles in the air

(The ones that you can scarcely see)

 

And I hurt from the inside out,

I want to scream and cry

I want to be seen and heard and felt

But my body simply lies

My tongue lay limp in my mouth

My eyes submissively recline

I breathe and beg my body cope

But my stubborn lungs decline

 

I am made of paranoia and smoke

Of black thoughts and shame

The sort of jaded soul at which you poke

The sort that’s easy to blame

I am a blend of nausea and withdrawal

Of plague, sickness, and inconclusive reigns

I am a creature that howls and crawls

In the safe shadows under an onyx plain

 

And I am everything I vowed never to become

Everything I claimed to loathe once

I am she who’s pain I mocked before I dared endure

For though knowledge satisfies, it cunningly vanquishes the pure.

Naught 

craving your hot breath, sticky 

wet, but with feelings too 

All in this time

emersed in it, completely intertwined

Endless, quicker though

because we couldn’t help rushing through

you’re fucking beautiful

and I almost can’t take it 

keep breathing on me, hot and heavy 

drown me 

I need it 

you’re not here though 

and my skin longs for your mouth 

for your hot breath, sticky 

where my mind dreams a thousand delicious dreams,

your absence confines me.

Tremor

Hand tremor,

I shake.

You did this,

how dare you bend what you knew would break?

Haunt me,

and I simply cannot rest anymore.

Broken,

this can’t be what minds are made for;

to scream and wonder and yell and knock,

to pinch and prod and snicker and rot.

And although I know

that sentience is a pendulum

that rocks and sways,

it seems there is a constant,

one thing that doesn’t go away.

For though my mind

will refuse to dwell,

will repress any memory (lest it begin to swell),

there is a constant,

a pesky remain,

it is my hand

— which continues to shake.