He flirted with death and she flirted with love and it seemed close enough to a disaster made in heaven with the promise of a blissfuly ironic hell so they kissed and undressed and explored bones under flesh and thoughts over addictions and beds made of poison and songs made out of needles and blood laced with the highs of getting low on everything that could be beautiful if it weren't for all the human misery getting in the way and they made love in a way of ******* all the pain out of the desperation to be anything that was anything but human and they became gods of infinite delusion and dopamine waves penetrating depths beyond the boundaries of shadow and light and body and soul and they crashed and tangled and mangled and drifted far far away from anything real and became the death and love they had been dreaming of before they had even been born

You tie me down to a bed of lust
with your silken verse
and slide the hands
of your come hither
and **** me poetry
over my sweating flesh
and cause the ambitions
of my sins to grow
as you spit out
the ***** things you want to do
with your lips painted
in wicked hues
and poisoned reds
and playfully strip us down
with your wet tounge
full of metaphors
until our clothes
and skin
and bones
are burning in your words of fire
and we become nothing more
than flames within
the whims of your desire
and take us to dark places deep
to penetrate beyond who we are
and turn us into
prayers of moans
and forbidden waves of sound
and light bent over
and arched
and twisted
and contorted limbs
no longer able to tell who is who
as we become a dance
of carnal acts
of primordial ooze
and then with a simple line
whispered in my ear
you bring me crashing back through
the stars
and doors
and flesh
and pin me back down
to your bed of life
and lust
and love
and death
and drain me with one final kiss
of molten bliss
that draws out the eruption
felt pass through dying soul
and trembling heart
and quivering flesh
and I rise and die again
in the beauty of your bed
made of words of fire
and ash
and burning poetry