Bad Birds ▪︎ Prose (1)

41. She wants my death much the way I want her

Do you look at the mirror just to remind yourself you there? Do you dare hold the devil by his tale just for a bottle of dare?
Do you like the therapy or just the fused drug cocktails? Life is a good lie when you're fine! You know what is to be fine Doll, right ? Happy tears for suicidal thoughts, wait ups for dream trains who stood you up. Doll I know you're fine !

Predisposed to be something else the day you'd liked to stab your friend Francis in the eye for taking the hand of your kindergarten emotional affair or the day you dyed half your head ultraviolet to match the color of your father's devotion grip on snowhite dirty wrists, split open thighs, rough clenching. Violet is hate violet is violence violet is elation. Violet this violet that penumbra is becoming your silhouette, magenta and amethyst blemishing a sanguine heart butcher; intangible deserter await on the comeuppance.

Contemplate the terror; I write her to be panacea. With every stitched up self-made scar, fleeing hard momentum of that rebellious tongue bitting Dulce right above my waistline; her is convoluted dainty coating the water I drink in thick bonne bouche blood pressuring my idioms to be my own silverado punishment. My own written fire and brimstone dire abode when I read her to my pety self every unconscious fortnite just to remind the scar on my mouth that once there was gore of her love.

Sweet magnolia nothing but those perplexed old bravado eyes

Calanthe pieces of lashes, cherries to peaches inverted freckles

It is I whom obsess over your aerial identity

Stradivarius melancholy

Axiom in authenticity essensed prudently

she lasts longer than joy

Coalesced Chamomile titbits and ultraviolet pain behavior

A lifetime of a methylene girl chlorine annihilated

God's sun can't wake me up thus I'm dead in you moon. It was the twilight who cursed me for having your lace filling my sheets. It was the vampires and compagnie coming for my blood for having your opulent tongue of sort leaping in runs with the courbature sway of a sinewy lamb between the bushes of my ecstasy.
I shall thank them all knowing the pleasure in having the honor to untie your half dyed satiny hair, delaying your throbbing, locking the chamber of your pounding suffering just for a mere night. As I remember you flickering to the rolling vinyl, free tranced as your braggadocio manner fades thee trades the Young teeth back, bite me sporadic. You flinche your arm point the revolver back to me.
'I wrote my name on the silver baby, can you take it for me ? ' Doll with the prettiest smile told me. You messed me up in the head again and you look a little too mean. Dots and dashes tastes of your divorced sobriety telling my horns poke her a little more. Kill her a little bit.

Do you wanna fill up an erotic girl issue for now ? Would you like to lay down in my dead arms? Do you want to be dead with me? Or just...be dead?
Because I'm tired romanticizing your sick ways to love. Your dead lips on mine ambrosia to great love. Figuratively telling me I'm fine with glowing criminal eyes is a 'No way back' caution note above the gates of your love.

With you I'm sticking to the end of the line even if it meant having you as my sworn sword enemy. I'm not afraid to die. I'm afraid to be alive without you by my side no hands of yours gasping my heart to flatline. Ultraviolet I'm waiting, wanting for trouble to catch me up. Take my heart away and fill me up with your satori electricity.

Doll you there ?