Worship Me
I only want you until I have you.
You wanna be with me? Then prove it. Cover yourself in me, taste me, tear out my eyes and put them in your sockets.
Bite me. Then bite harder. Hit me so I really feel it.
Don't whisper to me.
You want me? Then stop talking. Your words are mud, they are silt-covered bricks breaking hard on the ground, they are immovable, stinking clumps of bullshit.
This is want you want? You want me? Because the truth about me is that I can't even look you in the eye. Your body is dry clay, flaking and unusable, your eyes are peeled grapes and your mouth is a jagged scar in a piece of fruit that reveals the rot inside, those pretty words of yours, those plans, those things you want me to do to you, those are maggots, they're poisonous seeds, I want to spit them out.
You break my heart.
I wish I wish I wish I knew how to find your hand in the darkness I wish I knew how you liked to be touched I wish I was the person who wants you.
But when you look at me like that I imagine my body is a thousand years old and when you touch me I crumble to dust.
I'd curse you but it's hardly worth the breath.
About the Creator
Amos Ratcliffe
Artist, poet, proud owner of a Helen Mirren autograph.
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