Oh my sweet, you, my dear darling one - forever more shall you be the captor of my eternally broken heart of hearts, a vessel of loyal permanence and persistant adoration.
Oh my love - won't you come away with me, to a better place of pervasive places, where we can live alone, together though forever alone, forever after and always? Do you not caontain each and every bleeding, aching, burning and blood splattered desire of my dampened, darkend, forever blackened soul's spectre? That nameless one of sheer anonymity, that being of all but the invisible night of a night not yet played out for the like of your crule, cold, cuting self, and my sweet, sorrowful, shadowy, sad, suffering self...
I am not certain, not as certain as you forever prove yourself to be, of myself, of my life, my laughter, my loss and my lamentations, galore. Never shall I be sure, certain, definite within the infinte ends of time, stretching out unendingly, for only death's cruel gripping grasp to steal, with the whispered lie of a sweet, deadly and forever bitter tasting nothing...
As of yet, there has been no shining, golden and effervescent opportunity offered out from a generous and caring angel's warm and eternal embrace for the like of my sorry, suffering self... Thus far, in this cruel life, forever unlived, by any creature but me - I am yours, yours is all I am. Though you choose to discard, destroy, dispose cruelly of my cold, hard and bloodied soul in the most shameless and irresponsible way available to your forever varied and eternally infinite, broad imagination of imaginations unknown... Is there no way possible for me, your sweet loved one, all alone, to forget to remember your touch, your taste, my tears, my trauma?
If no, then why ever so? How can it be so forbidden, so taboo, so disallowed and forever scandalously impossible to acheive such a fanciful fugitive's felling flight from the never ending squeeze you press hard upon my heart's liberty and my soul's freedom? Why are my life's countless and forever varied attempts rendered so endlessly futile and eternally, worthlessly pointless? Why and how are you such a bullying, bastardising, battering and brilliant, beautifully, brutally bruising? Why do you choose to love me and then thrust my heart hard and far from the cradling, comforting shelter of your own, so often - my dear, the fickle frequencies of your hurried flight from my warm, kind embracing embrace are all too many, and all to regularl for my fluttering heart to bear - now formed and forever more solely from sorrow, pain, blood, tears, heartache itself, silencing greif and sheer sadness - as I lie, resting loftily upon the ledge where your cruel and forever wise conscience should forever be perched, though you have indeed ridded yourself of such an essentially wise requirement of the soul, and ever teasing, traumatising needs, forever more.
I rest here, ici, solely for the sweet, painful and murderous role and eternal purpose of love you, alone. As I live and breath, I shall adore you. Ever obsessively shall I worship you, ever the sweet keeper of hearts, and I shall keep your own sugarcoated, majoestic heart of a poisonous kiss within mine own - your poking out eagerly into the night air in search of your next, soon to be attained prey, the corpse of a lover, ever undead - and, though my sole, forever muscular vessel of passion, provided of love, prescriber of dreams, pumper of life, purchaser of kisses' sweet taste, is forever to be broken, battered, bloodied and desperately, gladly bleeding.
As you drink, greedily from my readily open throat, laid bare - as you take, steal, pillage, theive, rape and ravage, even, from my happily, comfortable and eagerly public and drinkable would of a lover's pure, punishing passion and glorious desire, never before released upon the scarred, fragile, trembling and innocent flesh, ever sacred as the stars above us, the holy flesh, ever untouched, of one who cannot lie, one who speaks only the sweet truths of honest never untold, the words, the wisdom, the wishes of truth, that no one else knows the words for...
This, my dear one, cruel hearted judge of love's eternal law, is the language of love, life, laughter, lust and luxury. And you, sweet liar of the eternal night, ever immortal, are a mute for you cannot comprehend such a language of honesty and purity, you cannot express your desires of flesh and fantasy, for, in this world alone, you cannot speak and are therefore, rendered beautiful, worthlessly silent - my dreams have been answered. For you shall never know love as I, though I am yours, and yours is what I am.
My sole purpose in this deathly life is to be yours, your possession of passion, your property of promise. Take me, take me all, for yours is all I am.
Oh my love - won't you come away with me, to a better place of pervasive places, where we can live alone, together though forever alone, forever after and always? Do you not caontain each and every bleeding, aching, burning and blood splattered desire of my dampened, darkend, forever blackened soul's spectre? That nameless one of sheer anonymity, that being of all but the invisible night of a night not yet played out for the like of your crule, cold, cuting self, and my sweet, sorrowful, shadowy, sad, suffering self...
I am not certain, not as certain as you forever prove yourself to be, of myself, of my life, my laughter, my loss and my lamentations, galore. Never shall I be sure, certain, definite within the infinte ends of time, stretching out unendingly, for only death's cruel gripping grasp to steal, with the whispered lie of a sweet, deadly and forever bitter tasting nothing...
As of yet, there has been no shining, golden and effervescent opportunity offered out from a generous and caring angel's warm and eternal embrace for the like of my sorry, suffering self... Thus far, in this cruel life, forever unlived, by any creature but me - I am yours, yours is all I am. Though you choose to discard, destroy, dispose cruelly of my cold, hard and bloodied soul in the most shameless and irresponsible way available to your forever varied and eternally infinite, broad imagination of imaginations unknown... Is there no way possible for me, your sweet loved one, all alone, to forget to remember your touch, your taste, my tears, my trauma?
If no, then why ever so? How can it be so forbidden, so taboo, so disallowed and forever scandalously impossible to acheive such a fanciful fugitive's felling flight from the never ending squeeze you press hard upon my heart's liberty and my soul's freedom? Why are my life's countless and forever varied attempts rendered so endlessly futile and eternally, worthlessly pointless? Why and how are you such a bullying, bastardising, battering and brilliant, beautifully, brutally bruising? Why do you choose to love me and then thrust my heart hard and far from the cradling, comforting shelter of your own, so often - my dear, the fickle frequencies of your hurried flight from my warm, kind embracing embrace are all too many, and all to regularl for my fluttering heart to bear - now formed and forever more solely from sorrow, pain, blood, tears, heartache itself, silencing greif and sheer sadness - as I lie, resting loftily upon the ledge where your cruel and forever wise conscience should forever be perched, though you have indeed ridded yourself of such an essentially wise requirement of the soul, and ever teasing, traumatising needs, forever more.
I rest here, ici, solely for the sweet, painful and murderous role and eternal purpose of love you, alone. As I live and breath, I shall adore you. Ever obsessively shall I worship you, ever the sweet keeper of hearts, and I shall keep your own sugarcoated, majoestic heart of a poisonous kiss within mine own - your poking out eagerly into the night air in search of your next, soon to be attained prey, the corpse of a lover, ever undead - and, though my sole, forever muscular vessel of passion, provided of love, prescriber of dreams, pumper of life, purchaser of kisses' sweet taste, is forever to be broken, battered, bloodied and desperately, gladly bleeding.
As you drink, greedily from my readily open throat, laid bare - as you take, steal, pillage, theive, rape and ravage, even, from my happily, comfortable and eagerly public and drinkable would of a lover's pure, punishing passion and glorious desire, never before released upon the scarred, fragile, trembling and innocent flesh, ever sacred as the stars above us, the holy flesh, ever untouched, of one who cannot lie, one who speaks only the sweet truths of honest never untold, the words, the wisdom, the wishes of truth, that no one else knows the words for...
This, my dear one, cruel hearted judge of love's eternal law, is the language of love, life, laughter, lust and luxury. And you, sweet liar of the eternal night, ever immortal, are a mute for you cannot comprehend such a language of honesty and purity, you cannot express your desires of flesh and fantasy, for, in this world alone, you cannot speak and are therefore, rendered beautiful, worthlessly silent - my dreams have been answered. For you shall never know love as I, though I am yours, and yours is what I am.
My sole purpose in this deathly life is to be yours, your possession of passion, your property of promise. Take me, take me all, for yours is all I am.
