From My Library

You’re so fucking perfect that I want to tear you limb from limb with my searing teeth, pummeling humility into your ribcage and sucking the hubris from your marrow. I have these fucking aching pulses of my heart beating in my head where they doesn’t belong. Beating relentless and incessant where they’re unwanted. I want to fucking bite at your insides with a vicious toil unknown, with a passion I haven’t felt for anything else and to just rip the tendons, snap them off your bone with violent tweaks of my jaw, set right round the muscles like a snack of delirium.

But it’s you who drives me crazy.

I’d be sane without your whispers in my head or your stinging slice of memory nagging at my mind, begging it on bruised knees to grant safe passage to my past, to redeem its dripping sin and soaked fruition of damnation. Bleed it out. Bleed it like a medieval blood letter.