L'AMOUR FOU

Shamelessly plugging myself in yet another corner of the internet.

I dream of being understood, deeply–wholeheartedly understood. The kind of understanding that I can barely wrap my own mind around. Trying to figure out the complexities of another, unknowingly baring your own. Exposing that vulnerability like an offering–lamb to the slaughter–lockjaw of the heart. I ache for granite palms meeting alabaster softness, tender in its depravities–a body begging for the kindness of knuckles; an onslaught of violent delight, awaiting their violent ends. Songs sung from a mouth too full, and a heart too covetous, drawing myself into my own demise, with breathless nocturnes borrowed from the dead. I long for the feeling of teeth sinking into flesh, breaking body and mind. Thighs open like a prayer book; a holiness of hot breath against searing want, tongue tasting the body and blood – devourment of the willing, broken and despaired.

Repurposed hymns falling from a sanguineous mouth, the soft-silken flesh stained red; hungry in its obsession for disaster. How intricately hate crosses love, entwined in a nocturnal amoret. Twin souls wrapping around one another in a strangle of limbs, barbed hearts piercing and laying claim–bloodthirsty and broken–fragments coming together, violent in its fragility.