I am no innocent being
guilty am I of emotionless touch
strategically avoiding attachment
reducing myself to an object of lust

I ****** the ones I loathe the most
****** movements and tasteless smalltalk
faces blur together in a sea of one night stands
blocked phone calls and shameful morning walks

but the system has failed its creator
his hard shell was reflective of mine
confident I'd hate him the way I hate myself
I pursued him like I pursued cheap wine

a foolish underestimation found me in his bed
tender words and careful hands
my personal affectionate antichrist
played a game worse than my plans

I fell in love with a boy just like me
so much so he told me to shut the door when I leave