It’s just something that needs to be done. Something that fills me up with love. Warm spunk, ready to cover a temple of imperfection. Ready to infect, and to desecrate all that I deem fit. There’s not enough truth in fluid if you ask me. Not enough viscera. Sucking mouths and breasts. Placing fingers in pink, fleshy holes. Swallowing sermons that no longer exist. Those nipples that long to be chewed, and the lips she never kisses with, flowering before me like stars in the sky. Those child-bearing hips, the ones that sing to me when I’m feeling down. Tickling her insides, from her toes to the nape of her neck, I claim the bite marks as mine. They couldn’t dare to guess where I go at night. What I do to make myself feel sane. There are no limits to my nature. The marriage of my hands and the conflict of my tongue offering little in way of clues. Only photographs and alcohol. Bottled beer and pleasure zones. Snakes in her hair and drinking to waste the body away. Smoking to feel the burn at the back of my throat. Just the thought of it makes my balls shrivel to the size of peas. Makes me implode like dying dreams. There could be nothing worse, save for being set on fire. Or having my fingers crushed by slabs of concrete as the knife repeatedly slashes at my back. She’s mine to destroy. I own every inch of her vanilla body, inside and out. And that’s not what I say, it’s how it is. How it’s always been. Languishing is not an option. Succumbing like the grey buildings and abandoned fairground rides won’t be allowed. The dead guide me, always pushing me towards a fate that was born in the hearts of dying stars. The future seeks me out; It’s been waiting all this time. Ghosts of unknown lifetimes, of worlds, long since obliterated. Galaxies long dead, destroyed by black holes and the will of God. The dark realms of oblivion, now flowing through my veins and pumping into her as she lays there at my mercy. Thrusting fists against bedposts, speaking words that have no meaning. Separating, splitting. My flesh is nothing; it’s all about the shapes beneath. Dark energy. Boundless rage and turmoil. The stuff of nightmares. The language of the unknown as she presses up against me drenched in sweat. I’ll pick them clean off. They won’t be missed, none of them are ever missed. Hushed cries and muffled sighs, escaping from mouths on the brink of extinction. All faces melting at the point of death. The singularity of secrets, raining down like lovers. It’s something that just won’t leave, and as they draw ever closer, all I can do is clench my fists. Engulfed in the misery of others, the world silently turns. Nobody knows what I am. Those with whom I’m stranded with, so unaware of what drives me. So blissfully ignorant of the beauty that stalks them. Only the heavens can say my name. The angels and demons as they dance upon my spine. The anticipation of my little death, tingling in pregnant bellies.