Sickness

 

You’re dying to commence.
This wretched little bile-driven cuss of a sickness waits for you.
Tear me to pieces and find your only ecstasy.

Twist your knife self into me and shred it all,
Slide through the blood and water pouring away,
Pulling you in, the stained legs of my own illness wanting you more.
You don’t know any other way, do you?

You must kill me and resurrect. 
Through clenched teeth and a hard twist of my flesh, your breath quickens into a rush
The pain quickens you as you send it into me with a grip that feels like oceans.
Destroy and create, all the while cackling madly over smoke and screams.

The most wicked part of me dies to die at your hands.
Evisceration is a kiss,
Being gutted, opened to the wide world against softly-burning walls,
Still clinging to you, begging the one who slices me apart to put it all back together again.

With every fist to my body, you tell me I am lovely.
Every slam that my bones rattle through, I see across lifetimes in your eyes.
Torn open and wracked in flames, through watered eyes, my flesh burns for you.
The tears are a remuneration caught in your hand.
And when years of blood and ashes bleed through my skin, my warped mind still adores.

I am covered in the refuse of lies.
Cold memories from a tall, frost-ridden cowboy who almost met his demise.
The feeling there, the nudge, the push, it will not subside.
You ride dark clouds and pull me through the electricity, delighted to see the pain.
Flung forward through the tepid morning,
when you tire, I collapse, crumpled to earth,
a fall from a height soaring above countless eons, broken.
You let me go without a thought and watched the plummet, eyes lit by flames.
Above, before taking Death’s arm, I behold your rancorous delight.



Yet,
 the Sickness raises her head from the gore and the bludgeoned flesh.
She smiles knowing that you are just as wrenched,
sadistic torsion screwing your mind to a remorseless point where pleasure is
further desecration and sultry offence,
Gathered like thorned flowers,
You offer me this sinuous bouquet,
And all are lashed across my mind as you demand more.
Your quickening is hungry, and I am its cuisine.


Hence,
I am a new gift on your doorstep.
Rip me to pieces, open me again,
Draw your blade and carve your name across my shattered heart.
Just own me, Ma Chèri.
Let me sit under your desk and wait.
I am woven into and through you. 
Burn me, beat me, rip me apart.
We are still sewn into timespace and bound to eternity.