God is a lie.
I know this because you are Jesus himself.
Suicide watch you are but a sham.
A wolf in sheep's clothing.

I love you when we are naked.
I love him when he is inside me.
******. Fall. Climb.

I love him when he is kissing me.
Open mouthed gasps fall heavy.

He tells me he doesn't want to touch me too much-
he might get attached.

I wish he was sewn into my organs,
threaded between my ribs and heart.

He tells me how he will be murdered.
It runs in his family.
Premeditated death is practically genetic.
Something in his DNA that tells others:
**** THIS.

I just wish he would strangle me.
I wish he would spill my blood like communion and eat my flesh.
A church choir somewhere in the background hums.
The bells proceed to toll.

I am not afraid of him.

He tells me of his evil..
Something that slips in when he is sleeping.
Some part of him I have only caught glimpsing through his shame.

Something I can relate to.

What happens when the narcissist
falls in love with the sociopath?

"Loving her was like shaking hands with the devil. "
Loving her was a soft suicide.

A bottle of pills and a warm bath,
candles lit around your head like a glowing halo.

Loving her was a steady shock.

A fork in an outlet and a buzzing in your spine.
Loving her was the agony of a quick snap of a bone.
The long ride to the emergency room,
listening to music you never liked.
Especially not now.

Watching her leave was almost worse.

Almost better.

It was the swift pain of a steel toed boot in the
soft part of your stomach.
The gasp of the crowd in the busy bar.
The realization no one was going to step in and help.

Yes, loving her was surely relentless, inevitable pain.

So you turned into a person who kissed feet and
fell to their knees.
Bandaged yourself up and then asked to bleed a little more.
And the truth is..

You almost liked it.

The madness was inside of me,
but it ignited at the touch of your hand.

A single kiss started the fire and it has been consuming me since.
You are my bad disease,
the consequence of my desires,

and my end.

You can't really blame me, you know.
It's not my fault someone else's hands
can hold me so much better than my own.

Ah. the forbidden sense.
The tell us this is a true connection,
a fault in our armor.

To let fingertips raise goosebumps on your ribcage,
to know what it is like to run your nails on a persons scalp.

To let someone else have a sense of entitlement
and control over your body.
Do not tell me this is a bad thing.

A caress, a slap, an embrace.
Knuckles wrapping around your neck.

This could have been you.

I loved you, first.
I love you, even now.

My calmer, my quieter.
I seek it in rage, in lust, in sadness.
I want to gorge on the quick intensity,
the flash,
the flavor-
metallic and sweet,
resting on my tongue.

I love things like creeping ivy,
I swallow it whole.
I once broke my jaw in my sleep
because I dreamt  it would make me soft spoken.

My mother said I was born in high relief.
I have spent my life keeping others from whittling me down.

Lips that look like blood pooling and
eyes like an exit sign.
This gun between my teeth, my face begging:

"Go on... do it."

silk sheets and a sunny day breeze...

As Jim Morrison put it-
“come on baby light my fire”

Well, consider me burnt.

I am the embers of a dying flame
I am light
I am bones in a field
I am a solitary crow
I am smite

Baby, I am fading light

Last night I saw him after two weeks.
He was 9 shots deep,
patron making his breath hot and
heavy on my face when he hugged me hello.

I was cracking open a second beer
while he cut into the chicken breast.

He grabbed my arm and
placed it on the cutting board.
He pressed the knife to my flesh while I took a swig of beer.
He pulled the knife through my skin,
blood bubbling as he said:

"ah. you almost flinched."

He then took me into his mouth,
my blood making his lips and teeth momentarily stained ruby.

I held his head to my cheek and
kissed his neck while he crouched to my height.

I guess this was too tender a moment for him
because he pinned me against the wall and
pulled my hair so hard my feet ceased to touch the floor.

He kissed me with desire,
he kissed me in a way that almost made me flinch.

He kissed me but it didn't feel like a kiss.
He cut me and it felt like love.