i don't mind if you sold your soul to the devil
(rip your porcelain skin with corruption)


you roll in razorblade confessions and licorice secrets,
lips carved up into seductive and lied into empty faces
of loneliness.

your fingers play with the stencils of his leaking abyss
dreams, sucking up cyanide fumes of uncertainty as your
throat begs to be filled with a sense of faux belonging,

your eyes dissolving into the wrinkles of his melting skin,
tripping over slips of naivety, young hands sliding against
the trigger of his hologram sincerity.

(sweetheart) say it's a game and it won't hurt. say you'll
get out with your life and that'd be enough, because a
nickle for a heart and a dime for a soul. sell your legs bent
open, wavering with filth and vulnerability

and i'll still love you with your hands trembling over lack
of memories and bottles of shame, gasping through your
cigarette for fresh air.


author's note:
it was never, ever a bad thing. choose your way & i'll
turn my head. (i don't exactly know where this came
from, well i do but—)