The last thing I care about is to understand you.
People are no mysteries to me, everyone is pathetic in their own way. It's the smell of new books and what lies beneath the lines and that was only meant to be touched. Only skin can savour skin. And I'm deprived of the taste of humanity, I'm here to be beguiled by its scent on your skin. The most exquisite aspect of humanity is imperfection—that enfeeblement that makes you supplicate to be treated the way you yearn to be. That mouth deserves to utter its own eloquence of meretricious desire, it's the only form of warmth that could be relished. I aspire your humanity to call out for my name while your breath stands between it and the essence of your soul through the sovereign of my hand greeting your throat.
I never called myself an artist, even though I'm capable of recoloring your skin in tints of my own. Any fool could swing a brush. Darling, I'm here to reconstruct your whole being. I sink to the bones and run through the veins, not in the name of love but for the love of everything poisonous. I feed on innocence, the beauty of its ruin is incomparable. They say heaven sheds its tears between women's thighs, that elixir of iridescence is what I pamper my mouth with before I bruise yours. I find my tranquility in smothering you beneath my dominance—that temporary possession of bodies until I dive enough to own your soul.
That gentleman's morals that summoned you here were striped along with the clothes we tore apart. You came here to entertain the entertainer while these lonesome walls stand as my mesmerized audience. The quiescence of the night could only listen to the music I've mastered out of the strings of your vocals. You've mended your broken heart through the shattered mosaic of your dignity. While I've healed my monstrosity through inhaling the last bits of your humanity. Your dreams, hopes and the anecdotes that made you who you are—they all waited at the door. While my grief, wrath and broken pieces sneaked beneath your skin ever so surreptitiously.
I've whispered my unarticulated memories into your mouth and you weren't listening. Your breath no belonged home, my lungs were the long-lost sanctuary they've encountered at last. Our shadows were knitted as one. My callousness met the daintiness of your being; those rough hands imprinted their hideousness and you admired the shade of my savagery. You begged for more and I was an ocean that swallowed you whole. Let the night be our witness for all the sins we've committed to be the road we walk to be burned.
After all, I won't even remember your name when the sun defeats its somnolence while I, I'll remain a core memory.
