You are a series of red flashing fabrics and I am a Matador thrusting myself into you over and over and over again

I know it is nothing but pain and embarrassment and yet it’s so natural to me to proceed with these actions

You are a red flag I can spot from a mile away glistening your sequins in my face and I cannot stop but ram my face into yours

I know you bring me no satisfaction and I know I will never win against you in these battles and yet it’s so natural for me to hurt myself for you

The devil sits at its zenith
Hell’s warmth embracing
a bead of sweat escapes
both the man and the beast
locked and circling
waiting
waiting
waiting
until one leaves alive
both man and beast
want to show their bravado
one charges
one waves and dodges
both smell death’s breath
a crimson river starts to flow
and the dance is repeated
until one sits on Charon's boat
or is pulled by death’s horses
but in this dance
both have tripped and fallen
death is overjoyed in the afternoon