Once a year to put a statistic on it.
To long for something beyond the limit
accepted on your age.
An older rib-cage to lay on and warm
your passages with the scent of.
Maybe not to kiss, if not in your sleep
the sign shows but just to feel the deep.
To feel the groves against your ear.
But they are unrelated to you. It
You are naive teen. To simply dream of
the tiny rackets of that of a 30 year old intestine, when your only
experience of such is the fuss of the blood in your appropriately
What makes the desire for that which
seems ancient to you light fire in your mind, setting your thoughts
to scatter like maddened spiders? Like the spiders, your thoughts
previously stay smuggle under a rock, thoughts about one such aged:
Forbidden things that grow to reveal
themselves when everyone is too paralyzed to stop them.
A soft set of air flowing from your
lungs and makes you peaceful; so vivid in your mind, you ca
Iron, don't burn your lips.To give one your all.
What is that? What am I supposed to do
An internally crunching struggle of
emotions; a cauldron concocted on the base of your original cocktail
jealousy, infatuation, hatred and attraction. It grows. What is this, what people call ''love''?
To give me your all is not to tell me
of the chemical butterflies whose steel wings slice you up for me.
Had they not been made from that very cocktail, they would have been
dissolved in it's acidity.
To kick and scratch and crawl towards
me, the cocktail sweat dripping from your skin, obsessed. It's never
enough, my love.
But you should wonder do I get this
I want you in the same way, but to
consume your all is not your expectation.
To give me your all.
Let me tenderize that which I wish to
devour, watch the red trickle like a small stream in the crack of a
mountain, to lay completely and patiently still whilst it cools over