This urge… 

This is a strange urge. 

I continue to bear my wrists out in front of me, to the empty screen, to the quiet room, to the expanse of road before me.

A silent offering.

An urge to beg of some unseen company

Slash at the pale skin. 

Sup from my veins. 

Take from me. 

Let it consume you because it has consumed me.

Catch fire with me

Watch the madness trickle from my eyes and flow from my lips

Let my passion scorch at the ceiling

Leave the dark marks of my lust upon the walls.

Attach a wild tuft of my hair to my stripped bones and gather up my blood.

Paint the world in my visions, my dreams, my nightmares. 

Let my words cascade into you with voracious abandon.

Catch fire with me.

Let it take hold in you,

Grow in you,

Rot in you.

Until you return to see the fading marks of my obsessions

Until the blood has dried

Until the meat is gone

Until nothing is left but the memory of someone bearing their wrists out to you

Silently begging you to partake.

Poetry: Puppets

Where we met, I forget.

But it was there I took your hand and tied a string around it.

And when I got upset, I pulled the string to forget all my pains and woes.

You would come to meet my hand.

Like a puppet on a string.

If the line would go slack, you would always come back, and life was good with you and I.

My puppet on a string.

There was another I soon forget, one we took in our hands and gave him strings as well.

We were a sight of endless delight

Three bodies tied by strings.

On the string between him and I, a silly little ring.

A promise little ring.

My dear puppets on their strings.

Time did pass but we did last, we tied up hundreds of strings.

Some were frail, some were strong, some we kept very long.

They were our friends, but none as tight as the bonds that bound the first string I tied between you and I,

My favorite puppet on his string.

But the string bound around that ring?

One day when the line went slack, I pulled it back…

Only a shell came back.

I took my strings and tied them tight, to make him dance for my delight.

So I would not crack, I brought him back.

A ghost upon sorrow strings.

I made him dance, I made him sing, I hid behind him, pulling the strings.

To hide my heart from falling apart.

Me and my secret on a string.

Yet again time did flow.

Now it’s just a story few know.

I hide my heart a long ways apart.

My hidden doll on his strings.

Trapped behind a wall of sorts, a barrier he can not cross.

To a place where puppets should not be.

Where all beings should be free.

He still remains, I dare not part,

Still protecting my fragile heart.

Though I should give up his strings and put to rest

That empty, silent shell… would be best.

A puppet master with empty strings.

Other strings tied to other things, promises they do speak.

Of how the strings that have been tied between them and I

Are just as strong as the first string I had tied.

So maybe I can give up my dear shell.

Goodbye, soon, my puppet on his string.

You know the worst part?

My favorite puppet on a string…

If the same were to happen to you…

I would not hesitate to slice the strings to my doll.

Let the painful memories finally fall.

In this place where he does not belong.

I’d tie you to me, like it was all along…

Just you and I.

To hide my heart.

So I would not fall apart.

I’d make you dance, I’d make you’d sing.

And lose myself upon your strings.

Would you be alright?

If I turned you into my doll?

Because I could not stand, if you did fall…