5-9-17
Features, standing out,
Skin like the roll of a tide.
Let it fucking rain,
Bleed my name,
Sacrifice yourself-
Oh but I never meant to push you..
We drift,
You take my hand and we dance on clouds
And mattresses-
Walls of Polaroids,
But these look different,
I'm in these photos,
Not just the memories.
Eyes overcast,
Teeth spelling danger,
Tongues like skylines-
I'm in love with the wrong horizons,
With eyes red like the devil,
With a boy a walk away,
Another just a thought away,
And yet,
Here she is,
On my lips.
I'm magnetic,
Surrounded by jealous talk on this week's victim.
Isn't that the dangerous part of your job?
Are you scared?
Do you feel me when I'm gone,
Or am I gone before you even feel me?
What is it that you'd say,
Knowing I cross lines,
Do it like child's play,
Because doesn't it work out so well to not feel a damn thing?
Problem is,
I'm batshit crazy beneath it,
Look a little closer.
I know what you'd give to search me,
And you should know,
A name and a body are two very different things.
So keep staring,
Keep holding onto my downfalls
Like a lifeline,
Because my initials die in your star span.
They'd all get on their knees
For the blood on your lips,
They're all watching, hungry,
While I take you.
You taste too much like dawn,
Like windowsills to hop from,
For me to see it ending well.
Strings,
What a beautiful thing to tangle, aye?
You learn to cut ties,
Keep secrets,
And not fuck with anybody-
It's a cleaner set.
Drip me in this swimming pool light I've given you,
You've got an aesthetic now.
She's sweet,
Too perfect, too passionate,
Too easy to be quiet about.
He's mine,
But he knows where my mind goes,
And he's got sharks in the water,
Even though he looks at me like summer burns forever.
You're a paradise,
And he's a drug,
But you're intellectually intoxicating,
And you don't even try.
You're a focal point,
A thought process.
I love you.
If somebody like me is even allowed it.
Boy, you're blessed, and I'm up with the gods lately.
If crossing lines was a problem,
I've crossed them all trying to get to you.
And they're looking blurry
At half past eight.
Strings need to be tied, not attached.
Catch my rhythm and follow,
I swear this is the only good idea I've got.
- (m.m)
YOU ARE READING
Self Deception
PoetryPoetry 2017 And if I burn out in a fit of psychosis, remember me as a young god, with that smile made of daggers, even if I was the most dangerous thing you could've touched. Perhaps all that danger comes from the multiple personalities, but all I...
