in the dream, (̶i̶t̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶)̶

did i dream you?

i think i conjured you.

you laughed, and i fell in love with you.

i love only you. only you. only ever you.

sometimes loves isn’t enough.

you are familiar and strange at the same time.

i  thought you were beautiful: a thing i could never touch.

sometimes i think i would eat you if i could.

it is not uncommon for us to want to eat what we love.

we consume what we love.

where does it come from, the thread that ties us together?

you know some of my secrets, i know some of your secrets.

i always thought the worst thing in the world was repetition.

do you know who i am? or are you only looking in the mirror?

i am different. i am not the same as i was.

you don’t strike me as the kind of person ever to have been afraid of the dark.

even the dark needs things to eat, things to love.

the dark was hungry. the dark is always devouring.

i never used to step on insects. it would make me cry.

nothing in this universe is what you think it is.

i have only anecdotal evidence for this, but it’s true nonetheless.

entropy, come to devour all.

would they be horrified if they saw my hands, do you think?

my touch has always ruined everything, hasn’t it?

            should've known better, really. when crows masquerade as warning calls, grotesque neons elicit a chill down the dorscum. quarter to two strikes entropy like a kiss with a righteous fist & of all the entities to find at the shoddy kitchen table, this is arguably the worst / witness underneath doorframe, rickety frame at a slant coming down from another bad dream. ( perhaps you still are: vision edge with a whiskey softened haze & the nightmare is grinning back. do you even care ? ) lungs rattle with suspire, pluck a silk cut from it's crumpled packet ⎯⎯ an echo of a callous snap & hiss from the fingertips. ❝ jude, darling, how d'you get in ? ❞ the warmth of the flame / cool exhale of smoke as timbre croaks awake with aggravation.

he's not home, backstreet crafted key by the doorway, but she's not welcomed, either. intricate fuck off sigil etched into the withering door reduced to nothing. keeping a safe distance perched by the unfamiliar kitchen sink, ( landlord's vile as most bottom feeding demons, reservations set aside amongst other grudges. ) laughter makes a bold escape, bewilderment from an otherwise mulish demeanour. ❝ if this is the universe's grand way of havin' a peg, i ain't bloody interested. ❞ a prompt bite of burnt toast & sriracha, tastebuds were six feet under. ❝ it'd be nice to be wined & dined before getting fucked. ❞

she repeats the process, casually sliding one drink toward constantine as she leans onto the surface, grinning, swishing around the other. ❝ you're getting sloppy. gotta be careful, baby, or else you'll have god know what crawling 'round your vents. ❞ the lights flicker once more, before steadying.

holy fucking shit.

the answer is no.

bury yourself with the affairs of the living.

fuck you.

fuck you. yes you, specifically.

please practice blinking. others can be unsettled by your inhuman ability to maintain an unbreakable stare during casual conversation.

what did you ever do to deserve this?

none will love the butcher. don’t take it too personally.

don’t take it too personally.

some relationships, like warts, can be handled with the tactful application of liquid nitrogen.

wash the memories from your mind and body.

wash the clothes you were wearing.

frostbite is considerably difficult to heal from.

there is poetry in brutal efficiency.

people would take your raging far more seriously if you weren’t crying the entire time.

what made you so vindictive?

some bodies may be temples, but all are ruins at your feet.

you’re notorious for rubbing salt in the wound.

arson is not the answer.

you are a bone-deep fury.

accept your impending expiration.

stop trying to swallow the sun.

embrace the inevitable.

there are things outside of your control. most of them don’t care for you.

when it all goes to hell, remember it’s what’s inside that counts.

your teeth are only porcelain, your ribcage simply glass. like all delicate things, they can know no permanence.

please don’t cry.

in time you’ll learn that “just” and “right” only mean the same thing when they’re coming from very specific people.

you may not want to change, but the world is unforgiving.

sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places.

what the fuck is it doing in your teeth?

nothing can stay.

dying is dying and rot is rot.

loneliness is the fracture that never heals quite right.

you will watch the skies.

no loose ends.

you will not be swayed by the morally destitute.

an eye for an eye. a tooth for a tooth. a knife for the ribs.

devour death like crows.