I'm addicted to the pain again
I manage to pull away from that demon at times, but I always run back into it's bloody embrace
He always welcomes me back warmly
He whispers sweet, but meaningless nothings in my ear
I hear that voice resound wherever I find myself
Dragging the blade deeper, running along the many-times healed over scars I knew so well
But the crimson disappears into blackness, where I find myself floating
The scars are nothing to the scars of my heart
I'd much rather open old wounds that merely scratch the surface
Because
my demon will turn the white to maroon then to black and I will hold
him to me until my flesh dissolves into the winds and tides and my bones
become nothing more than whispers in the ground
He is such a loving demon, eyes as bloodied yet glorious as any battlefield
No one will take my honey-tongued love from my mangled hands as long as he exists
Because he lives to serve me and I live to feed him
The pain is painless, and nothing has been more tempting or maddening than this
No comments:
Post a Comment