I'm not sorry for the way I feel; which is nothing.
Keep digging as deep as you can, there is no corpse for you to fetch under the pile of dust you've earned. There's no way for you to witness the whole picture of the puzzle with a few strides taken back, for there are way too many missing pieces you can never fetch anymore.
So stop the search.
Sit the fuck down.
Let me conquer the bewilderment you wouldn't want to unravel. Don't seek feelings within me, find it beneath my fingertips transmitting it underneath your skin. I don't need to feel a thing when I can make every inch of you feel everything.
I don't need to respect your curiosity, I can make the softness of your texture respect my inexorable coarseness. And if you can't appreciate my ambiguity, then don't expect me to spare the tint of your skin. Scratch after my untold anecdotes and I'll repaint you in amaranthine promises I tend to never keep.
Speak to me in falsehood so I can cut your tongue and make you swallow it to gulp in your own lies. I'm not to be underestimated or taken lightly. While you, yes, you, only respected for what you taste like and the elixir streaming down your thighs. It makes us even; I'm despicable to you and so are you to me; each in their own way. Each to their own as they say. So before you curse my name, you'll be moaning it loudly enough for the shadows on the wall gathering to witness us.
So witness me, become an engraved memory while you turn to a distant one.
