Wrap your lips around the nicotine stick
and inhale deeply.

This is my devotion.
My unholy
corroded
corrupted adherence to the dark beauty
you curl in the smoke from your
cockworn lips.

They scream you know
(Through the depths of your crystal blue skies
enclosed in decaying flesh).

This is my devotion to you.
This is my eternal penetration.
(Can you feel it?
Push a little harder.)

Her name is Tragedy, sugar,
and she can't do what I can for the fringes of you
left like ash to burn away from your skeleton.
You don't understand me right.
I draw from the dark in your lungs
condense it and squeeze it out into poetry
verse
after verse.
You don't understand me,

right?



Breathe out.
My lifeblood's swarming with the perverse warmth
that radiates out from between your legs.
Profane, isn't it?
Never thought a mouth so sweet
could slur a sentence in quite that manner.
Shadow's no secret kept from little girls
that dream of it.
I see her through your hazy eyes
you fucker,
TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME!

I'd give breath after breath to you
and savour in the sweet depravity that would
engulf my fragile body
stealing the oxygen from every cell inhabiting this only form
and they wouldn't scream "God let me breathe!"
They'd scream your name until the cytoplasm spurted out
and you were there swelled with their essense.

Can you even comprehend this magnitude?
Rip my hair and beat me.
You're the only thing that tells my pulse to thud.
You're the only diaphragm I need.
You're my only likely chance at some rude form of existence.

This is my loveletter.

Signed;
Your Daughter.

12/02/2003

Author's Note: This makes me want to vomit, yet I'm proud. This isn't me.

Posted on 12/03/2003
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia