i didn't want to be back here
how come im back here

you were the one that brought me here in the first place
showed me this place of feeling
broke down my walls and carried me away
to this place of colors
both light and dark

and then some how we saw it for what it was
and grew together
made it out alive
carrying each other on our backs until we'd
made it across that impossible abyss

but now you've taken me back here and why
when it was a fight to the death to get out
why would you toss me back into this maw
with no escape
no you

today has been so long and so tiring; i think i should lie
down. the anxiety has me feeling like a stranger
a lot lately. it’s not the only thing getting me down
it’s always the same sad songs that i’m listening
to that make me feel alive it’s usually always music that brings light
back into my life but lately, music isn’t my only friend

sometimes, i wonder if you really are my friend
i can’t help but stop short when i catch you in a lie
or saying something insulting or being devoid of light
it may be the anxiety speaking, but you feel like a stranger
you’re always doing the talking and i’m always doing the listening
but there are good times too so i push the red flags down

whenever you hit me up, drunk at 4am, im always down
sometimes its not me, but you rather, who is in need of a friend
you go on and on and deign to ask if im still listening
and of course i am, i always am, even if im afk —i’ll lie
and say i did because it would be stranger
to admit it —no, i would rather leave off that light

but that’s just the thing, though right — light?
i give you so much, yet you give none, i bring you up, but you bring me down
at this point i’m not sure which one of us is in fact the stranger
at this point i’m not sure which one of us is in fact the friend
when you’re good, i’m bad; when you’re bad, i’m good; when i’m bad, i lie
and say i’m good because its not like you’re listening

on the other hand, sometimes you are listening
and its those days when i start to feel light
because it seems like things are changing, like you’re changing —a lie
i tell myself over and over again, while i watch you drag me down
of course, the lyrics to this song fit —"thoughts of a sober friend”
when you’re sober you play the friend, but when you’re not, you play the stranger

i’m starting to think that if you’re going to keep playing the stranger
then I’ll keep you at an arm’s length away, always listening
but never leaning in, never getting wrapped up in you more than a friend
should ever, never letting you steal my light,
never letting you drag me down
again, never believing you when you lie

I'm the kind of girl who burns through guy friends like rubber on tiers, like sulfur on matches, like gasoline and kerosine and flameward moths.
But I don't want to burn through you.
We just go together so well—like puzzle pieces.
You and I are like day and night, sun and moon.
If you only knew how it eats me up inside, keeping my cool.
I feel this tiny spark dancing in my heart and it threatens to rake my body in flames, ready to pounce on me, licking and biting at the first sign that I'm falling for you.  
I'm really trying to hold my fuse right now, but one second we're joking and laughing and in the next you say something that tugs at me and I feel my hold on it slipping.
If I don't burn you first, this fire in my bones will certainly consume me.

"Oh God," she says, hands clasped together, fingers entwined, knees bent.  
He doesn't answer; /he does.
/he answers with earnest, continued, devoted worship,
head bowed, eyes closed, his mind devoid of all else but this
—this soul-shaking, earth-shattering pleasure, this blessed communion between man and woman,
the Holy Spirit an undoubted ****** through the candlelight,
this holy practice wherein they do some of their finest praying.

Every little move, every soft step, every breath I take,
I am reminded of him; I am reminded that he was here.
I savor the subtle soreness, the secret that only we know
—the remnants of pleasure that reside there.
They remind me that I am his, and his alone.

I await him, naked, head bowed, kneeling
With leather and rope he binds me tightly
Deft hands’ feather touches send me reeling
Melting candles ready, burning brightly  
He blindfolds me then gags me with a bit
And through the darkness, slowly I am led
To a place where in pleasure I shall sit
‘til ecstasy claims me upon the bed
He’s summoned the small death from me thrice now
Three rounds; it does not end with my pleasure
“You’ll take and like what I give you,” he growls
We’re done when he pleases —at his leisure
After all the teasing, pleasing, and pain
We collapse together —one, once again

Is it too much to ask that we
just lay around with our
cigarettes and coffee and jazz
and just enjoy each other?

Why do we strive for perfection—
when it would only neglect
the intricacies of this gritty,
raw, ****** existence?