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 wisely, 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).