breeze on your cheeks

I admit, the sound of your voice feels like the dots on the wall of the house I grew up in, morphing shadows into faces. Vibrations that transport. Sickly and toxic still but I love it, wrap around it because it's dark and familiar. Little bits that make acting out seem like stranger's folly in my freedom, I wonder where the shaking stops...but not here, not in this place, where the music surrounds and greasy sweating monkeys suck away the last days of their youth, thumping club to wicked feet bumping up up and up - you make me feel at home here in the land of everlasting heartbeats. Did you follow me, the sound of a base pumping out steady punk rhythm from the days of leather jackets, buckles, spikes and sticky floors. Many years later but enter impression, sweet face, fractured in cynicism I stopped and let my eyes rest upon you. Maybe you were the worst thing to ever happen to a heart like mine, tiny veins and capillaries spread out wide to feed immortal soul, you sick crust, you vagrant, you vampire. You fed, unforgiving beast that rippled once, twice, and died, disappeared without remorse into thin air. How could you play such tender games...I split in two, pushing outwards like a hatchling from the prison of eggshell, shed my skin and tried to burn the world with my tongue of flames. I needed to watch something die. What was slain becomes the slayer, yes, a petty paradox but it's why I shine tonight. glitter glitter and who wants to bite.

Succubus, angel in red. So I trick myself, like everybody else.