Pleasure Seekers

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Raised by feral wolves. Greedy for a little touch of something sweet. Lips turned downwards, like a spiral of delight. Hips of watery desire. Vanishing hands, but it’s not my fault. Nothing’s ever my fault. Unbandaged bodies, invisible to all but her. Birds on a wire. Skeletal Jews, victims of man made monsters. Frozen youth. Men as devils, women as snakes. Heads cut from spines. Bullets in torsos. Limbs ripped clean off. Spread that pussy, and disappear with ease. Lay back, and pull down those tights. Light sensitivity, and fingers around my cock. Dreams dissolving so easily. Lovers unbecoming like it never meant a thing. She cut herself with a broken bottle. She bathed herself in a bath of bleach. A pearl necklace, and the feel of me inside of her. Big man with a gun. Damned plague lover, always creeping at the foot of the bed. Autumn into winter. Fingers into mouths. Ectopic and vaporised. Skinned like rabbits in the headlights. Nowhere to hide. Everything for sale.

Married and buried. Blowjobs as trinkets. Beads of perspiration, staining dresses so pretty and fine. Sexual diseases, vulgar and just what they deserve. Whores and horses. Cheap like junk food. Love as pointless as newspapers. Whispers from the past. Fucking whilst drunk. Between the church and home, there was nothing other than lust. Between a rock and a hard place, faith so dismal like a million times before. Smoke a cigarette. Cut into your brain. Rip your insides out, and display them for adoration. The lighthouse, made of whiskey and abuse. The lighthouse, a bringer of faith and truth. Bloodied handprints, relics of something unknown. Candles in caves. Hands on a lover made of supposition and romance. Witches singing songs of decay. Reeking of rotten fruit and disdain. Oh, the horrors of innocence. The terrors that attack when we give in. When we allow ourselves to become what we never wanted to become.

All those dreary fuckers. Those boring lovers going hand in hand to the gas chamber. Row upon row of nauseating opulence. Useless faces in useless places. They never say a thing, and even when they do, their words have no real meaning. Useless generation. Let the bombs fall upon their heads, and pray for a new beginning. Let them all fall down, so that we can make love without interruption. All night long, we eat darkness and exotic fruit. We merge with passion. Pleasure seekers so wild and natural. Fire in our bellies, so potent like a drug. Don’t listen to anyone else, just listen to me. Believe in what I have to say, and do what I want. Take my hand, and together we will glimpse the deadlights of our hearts and minds combined. Deny whatever you don’t need. Scrape off all those you have no desire to be a part of. Give yourself to madness. With open arms and trembling lips, give yourself to the one you dream of each and every lonesome night. I’ll be waiting at the foot of your bed, fingers itching to trace my initials on the flesh of your tender, milky thighs.

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