Holocaust of the Mind


Psychosis in children. Imaginary friends that never left. The birth of madness mirrored in the valley between her breasts. Eyes like a cat and body of a woman. The shining of sex and the prowling nature of her sultry walk. She comes without warning. A voyeur of lovers with no idea of their meaning. Writing into the morning, sleep deprived and foaming at the mouth. Isolated for a reason, there’s nothing like the cold sting of winter as you tip-toe down the hall to smoke a cigarette through the bathroom window. Man’s descent into inhumanity, because underneath it all, we’re just savages wanting to taste every mouth that comes our way. Underneath that dress, she reduces me every second. Unshaven. Unwashed. A wicked man-boy always wanting to take it one step further. Waking with the taste of fire sliding down my throat, images of her in my arms flutter somewhere behind glazed eyes. Silver spoons and fingers on nipples. Squeezing. Licking. A tongue upon her ear as my loins merge with hers; they say I’m insane, yet they don’t seem to realise there’s no other way. They say I like the bottle too much, but they don’t see how it stirs the flames of my restless heart. They let me eat them, and they let me please them, yet they never please me. Girl alone, with only a plague to keep her company. Making love to reflections while the end of the world draws near. The terror that spreads as easily as your flesh awakens all that shouldn’t be said. Red lips that tickle me stupid. Neurosis just a reason to feel complete. No such thing as suicide, for we never really die, and each time we collide, it’s just the beginning of an end that has no meaning. Hear my words, and let them take you down to a place we know so well.

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