I used to have a place like this
and every page a testament of sin and need and madness
where illusions fell and demons danced
and I could scream so loudly, weakened, sated
only then to find my self again.
Until I thought I did not crave the nakedness that lies beneath,
that I was somehow better now, absolved by fire, purified.
(I lied)
And now I am back
and my skin itches tongue licks waiting in anticipation
as I smell the sickly sticky sweat,
and take my place on the dance floor once again.
the prodigal in x
- March 30, 2014, 8:32 p.m.
- |
- Public
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