I can see the way the world ends in your eyes when you look at me like that. When you let me taste you it’s like candy-coated annihilation. You kill me and I like the sound of you when you breathe heavy and hard, so hard you can’t say a single word. You just let my moans fill your mouth. Fill the whole fucking house with the scent and the disgraceful noise of it.
We’re only at the beginning but let’s not ever let that part end. Let’s stay right here on the razor’s edge and let it cut us up real thin. I read everything you say later when I write it in my diary. Not with hearts around it but with swords because I can draw swords really super tiny and make them face any way I want. Sometimes they go right across the neck. Like crossing the letter t but with a blade between its teeth.
I guess you could say poets are strange that way. Words are so much more than words to us and what we say is only a sliver of what we really mean even when we get it just right there’s always something missing, or at least it feels that way. Kinda drives you mad but then we work around that, too, by diving right into the center of the chaos and standing completely still.
If you can’t keep up we will leave you fast and never look back. It’s not cause we’re mean, well, maybe it is, maybe it is but that part’s just by accident, really it’s because we know if we stick around with you you’ll kill off all the good stuff before it gets a chance to surface. You’ll keep us from getting where we need to go. Where’s that? Well, if you have to ask we might as well just leave it right there and let it shrivel up in the bright light of your innocence. And I bet innocence must be really super nice.