A phantom on the grey. A tempered lesion reminiscing on healthier times, drowning and undulating in relapse. This is what love becomes. A Maron jerking off to ass recalls. What once was is forever and forever repeated ad naseum for little boy blues in the midnight hour. More more more cries self-pitying morose moron inhabiting drained body. The man without a face screams in mouthless agony for the return. Pushing on through to the other side in limp limited steps oozing with hesitation. Dragging hollow log legs through sleepy gravel bogs, listlessly awaiting redemption, renewed fervor of major mojo.
I wrap myself inside myself. Warm arms pushing against soft flesh. Pumping iron just to hug myself tighter. Fetal position after day of analysis self-hate. I hide in my bed till the ache turns to sleep. Languishing in fiction, dreams a secluded loft to tuck away in where all is safe. Safety is the key, No attacks or embarrassment, guilt-free world I can run away to. No one hurting me, No harsh judgements thrown at frail psyche leading to shame spirals. Too sensitive, taking everything to heart. Big heart being spoilt with bitterness, how do I stop it? The question need not be answered now, more sleep and wasted days drowning in bruised memories and flashbacks. Bang, another shock to the system, rude awakenings don’t relent. I push them all away but really I need their comfort. Skin on skin,No need for trite words just consoling arms; breast to breast, heartbeat to heartbeat. Make me alive with the warmth of your touch. Let there be kindness in it and a desire for togetherness. Don’t do it out of some obligation. Love me, love me tenderly lovely. Love’s little blips; the heart monitor sings a refrain. Can you hear it? It’s coming up; valhalla rising, tenderness rising, dullness fading.