II

They have a name for people like you. They have a lot of pointless, pretty words. They have bullshit. They have lies. Because underneath that make-up I know what you are. You're a cancer. You're a fucking disease, and you're the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are broken, just as broken as I am on the inside. But you deflect. You're in control. You're the one asking all the questions and you're the one telling all of the lies.

I imagine you breathless with your knees to your shoulders and my mouth against your neck. You're wearing nothing but bruises on your neck from my hands. Your eyes are open as wide as your legs and you're begging me to steal every single last breath from your body and to taste every last drop of your spit. I've tasted your body, and you taste of sweat and lust and heaven. I've tasted your blood from when I've bitten down on your lip to get you going. You gasp. Another breath, stolen.

I hold you down by your wrists and you act as if you want to escape but you are where you belong and you know it. There is nothing more to want than being used to you. Because your body is mine but you don't understand. Because just as your body is mine, my soul screams your name when the nightmares come because you are my only rescue.

But you have this way of destroying me. Not calling back when I'm at a payphone in the pouring rain stranded on unknown streets tasting like liquor. It's the only way that I can replace your taste. Nothing burns when it goes down like you do. Not even shame. And then you come around.

And I hold my arms around your body and you tilt your head back as your lips meet mine. I know that I'm terminally ill with a broken heart but I keep coming back for more. Cheap motel rooms with broken sinks and showers with brown, dirty water. The bed is littered with burn holes from cigarettes. Forgive me.

Because you are just as diseased as I am. There is nothing healthy about me at all. But I aspire to be your everything. I aspire to make you choke on three words. I aspire to be the pillow that smothers you. Suffocate. I mean this figuratively of course.

You are the ocean. And I am the breeze. I am the storm. We are homewreckers and heartbreakers, the both of us. We are broken, tormented and tortured souls. But we are so right for each other. In the end we might destroy one another. But until then we are...

Maps.

Unwind like a ball of yarn
I'm slowly getting smaller
As the miles pass underneath
My feet and I grow tired
I have nothing left but to
Pull myself in but someone
Is standing on the other end
Stopping me from becoming

Whole again...
I need to regain my sight
My ability to touch
Has been greatly dulled and

I can't find a way to fix this
Hole that is in my ceiling
Rain somes dripping down on my
Face and it's keeping me from sleeping.

I waste away starting from Carolina
Making it's way across Texas pavement
I can't let go of the home I made out
In the deathly cold of the Midwest.
And as I reel it in I catch flowers
I catch letters I catch reasons to return
But I'll never call it home again.
I'll never show my face in those parts again.

My ears are ringing
Filled with traffic, and misleading
Road maps look like veins
And there's a piece of me in every one of them.

Nothing special.

I wont forget the way September tastes. The way I lost everything and in defeat I walked away. You were wrong about me. You could never keep me warm. Swallowed it down with the taste of strangers, it burned in my hollowed out ribcage. Living on pillows and sheets and falling asleep to the lullaby of passing trains and a ringing telephone that I refused to answer. Static on the television. Dreams of a bigger life but not knowing if the world would change. Losing hope... I lost all hope in you. Your city's lights grew dim in the back of my mind but you never could. And all of these stupid acoustic songs I sang at the top of my lungs completely drunk in bars filled with smoke and people I wouldn't dare keep with were cries out for attention because no one else would listen. I can't forgive myself, and neither should you. Goodbye for good, my dearest friend... I'll always remember when I tasted you (and nothing will replace it).