I want it
Knowing I don't
Still want it
Knowing always it chokes
An intrusive bubble inside my oesophagus
Cloys my neural dilemmas
Initiating the emptiest of tremors
Inside my distant centre
And I,
I romanticise the feeling
The aches that taste quite nice
The aches that temper my sticky vitals as they start congealing
The aches that melt like crystalline honey
Infusing my psionic membrane
As it slowly begins revealing
A simmering bid of wounding disguised as soulful desire
My own dirty little habit
I keep refusing to shake, evade or retire
Because something so nauseating and ugly
Makes me feel at home in my body
Whilst it sets itself on fire
Self inflicting these sour splinters entices me to reminisce on past pains
Times bred by bland breadcrumbs so hungry I stayed
Feeding on ephemeral banquets of nothing
Hooked in by my own trap
I am just a pendant
Dangling from heaven's chains
And I'm caught.
Entangled by an absence palpable enough to deafen my dialogue
A flesh rotting soul crushing hell
I succumb to playing with my own train of thought
Someone's favourite toy in a world parallel
Still I have tried washing out that stain in me
The one that tugs on my craving for conquest
And comfort in grief
All the while my blue skin pines for another delicious bite
As she chews her favourite flavoured tar
Waiting for the sweet respite
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