I like your pathetic.
Maybe it’s sick,
Maybe it’s wrong,
But the tears your eyes cry for me
Turn me on.
The way you beg me to stay,
The way your voice breaks—
It feeds something in me
I can’t even explain.
I don’t want to fix you.
I don’t want to save you.
I want you raw,
Ripped open,
Needing me.
It’s not love.
It’s the craze.
And I want every drop of it.

I smell the wild on you.
How the snow is caked in your fur.
When the night falls, what does
It offer besides survival.
And the means to be something
besides human.
We're stuck here somewhere where
The earth has broken.
And the cold envelopes everything it
Touches.
You stand there in the snow
Teeth bared.
Not afraid to go at it once more.
I've grown tired, so very tired.
Your eyes burn the snow.
That fierce longing to stay alive.
What else does the night offer,
We've consumed pretty much
everything else except each other.
And I am tired of fighting.
Nothing pretty survives out here alone,
In the dark.
Together, you and I nestled in each other's warm.
When hunger subsides.
We'll find it in each other

concealed by the fog,
shaded by the darkness,
dulled emotions
sharpen inbetween the haze.

silenced by the rain drops.
leftout,
to only hear my own heartbeat,
each second seems longer than the other.

time is my friend,
time is my enemy,
whats is time?
nothing but a human construct;
a creation of the self,
by the self,
for the self.

my vision is blurred,
sight is a luxury
in such nights.
in such nights,
we get devoured
by our own thoughts.

eaten alive
by things unsaid,
screams that no one can hear,
no one can feel,
but our self.