• thefoxisdead 30w


    Ice from your whiskey , cures the cigarette burns
    on my arms .
    Soothing the sting but chilling my core .
    Molten fire drips from your gaze and my demons
    lap at it , searing themselves .
    We're two different phantoms haunting the same rotten
    shell of existence , feeding on each other's desperations
    and failing to decide between Sophocles or Shakespeare .
    Tragedies are all the same , the pen they come from matters no more than my life .
    your tragedy weights more than mine , but the aftertaste
    is always the same
    The debris of all that was , burnt proofs of your innocence .

    Twelve shots later I decide to let my
    subconscious take over .
    I wake up in a strange man's bed and don't dare
    to replay the night , while cleaning lipstick
    stains from your shirt .
    Morphine pills and credit cards are aligned on
    your desk and you kiss me feverishly ,
    freezing hands and bloodshot eyes .
    Devouring my soul , consuming everything I carry within .
    I give all of myself to you
    and smell like your regrets the next morning .

    Love is a nasty nightmare dipped in stale blood
    and served with chunks of anxiety and a bowl of
    claustrophobia .
    We're starved children of grief , latching on the
    first bite and burning our mouths .
    We share breaths because neither of us
    has the capacity to keep the loop going on our own .
    You mix death in cheap wine and we chug it down ,
    Endings have their own petty ways .



    I like my eggs scrambled,
    my neck hung,
    and, my throat perforated
    with two consecutive shots
    from two different handguns.
    coming back from work,
    I fisted a hamburger
    on my way back home
    to my woman,
    a burger is the only thing
    you could find here
    to put your fist into, in this city,
    filled with heavy ring fingers
    and throbbing walls
    of the shafts,
    filled with double-parked vehicles,
    sidewalks crawling with four-doors
    like cockroaches trying
    to survive an attack
    such as the 9/11.
    I would have liked to believe
    that heaven's near,
    liquor, liquor everywhere
    but, not an ounce to gulp down,
    or, drown
    my sorrowful nights in.

    I am in love, with the blood
    that we both share,
    the texture and the tasteful
    thickness of it,
    she bites the skin
    and peels it off from her lower-lip,
    and, I watch her bleed,
    another instance
    of staring into each other's
    sinful souls,
    another kiss,
    yet, the same aftertaste,
    of her lipgloss
    mixed with the fresh blood.
    the elephant in this room
    keeps on ruining
    the wall paintings,
    the layers exfoliate against
    our will —
    and, one fine night,
    we won't have a ceiling
    to look up to;
    soil, soil everywhere,
    but, still not enough
    to bury my chagrin alive.

    I will take what I can, from you,
    and get on my goddamn way;
    from the white powder scattered
    on the glass table,
    to these lipstick stained Franklins,
    and, the snorts and the moans
    that echoed throughout the corridors,
    as, I tried to rail another line
    from the skin foiling your breasts;
    I try to wrap my head around
    the man that I've become,
    love can be much damaging
    and we both, picked our poisons
    now, that your ring finger
    isn't as heavy
    as it used to be.
    when it's my time to leave,
    you wouldn't pine for me,
    you would rather sit in self-pity
    or, go out
    just to get back
    to the woman that you used to be;
    unlike you, I am a slave
    to the changes in my heart,
    unlike you, my endings
    don't necessarily diverge
    into new beginnings.
    (her fingers are everywhere,
    but, they won't do enough
    to keep me from bleeding
    through my sleeves).

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