You're my secret.
My secret keeper,
my safe, my lock-box.
my trunk in the attic.

my shipwreck on the sea floor.
my sails in the wind.
my shade tree in the spring.
my warm fire, my cleansing river.

You are love incarnate.

They want me for the things I said,
all the ***** pictures in their head.

They want me for my sweet kiss goodnight
And beg I stay til morning light

For the smoke I breathe
And the way I leave
And their tongue between my teeth.

Lure me. With the words on your lips,
and your hands on my hips.
And the sultry way you talk,

You **** me with the lust in your glare
the clothes you wear.
The way you watch me walk.

But why not for the things I say,
the prayers I pray,
my eyes when they turn grey.

Want me for my words I write
when I can't sleep at night.

Want me for my dreams, my fears,
my smile after several beers,
the taste of my falling tears.

Love me for the love I share,
my heart, my hair.

Love me for my love, my life,
The way I make you feel.

I need it to be real.

Crooked smiles.
Sinister eyes.
The mirror gazed back
at me.

My lips, my chin,
My hollow cheeks,
Not me at all.

Was this the outside looking in?
My soul beneath the frigid glass?

Putrid air escaped it's lungs
the lingering scent
of a rotted mind.

Choking on the stench
of corrupted thought.

Pounding the glass
with bruised fists and
split knuckles.

And I was on the inside
looking out
while the sickness inside me
walked free.

I want
But that is greedy

I need
But that is vain

I love
But that is filthy

So I settle

And I am met by an old friend
Disappointment

and his cousin

Mediocrity

And I am unhappy
And they call me names

Like Humble
and Kind
and
a good ******* Samaritan

Because Black is the new blue.
and happiness is the new sin.
and life is the new death.

And you can't let your self live
because life is full of sin.

"And there is no escape but detachment,"

I am suddenly aware
of how the blood weighs me down
pooling around the black box
that lays frozen in the darkness
of my chest

My body caves in.
Melting into my own skin
into the slowmotion observed by
restless eyes
tired eyes

and I laugh
hollow
Pretending
I really feel
the laughter in my throat

Am I living?
I am just an illusion, I pray.

Reality answers
and I know
I am still whole
Not a pit beneath the eyes of the rest,
Not a spec of gray in the void,
Not a twisting memory fading
into the ether.

I am still flesh and streaming blood.
Still a moving, flexing creature.
Slowed down by ravenous
thoughts
about pain.

And when the hands that reached for me
with filthy intentions
retreat
I yearn for the filth,
I yearn for the feeling
of want.

I yearn for any feeling.
Any at all.