Intoxicated

The mind games you play are the mind games I invent for my own pleasurable pain. Created out of fear of losing you when knowingly, there’s nothing to lose. Blissful as your tasted conquered me whole; slave of your body, your eyes, your lips, your lust…of you. What am I if not a puppet of my own deceit, my own desires. The lack of words from you just bury me ten feet underground and finally I get to meet whatever destiny I had created for myself.

As a drug so powerful, your absence will kill me as slowly as possible. So vain am I to believe that my own absence could be felt at all… I can see that suicide is painless and tainted dreams were only mine. This is all you ever had to say , so many changes that I cannot apply them to mine. Yet, yours are blistered… Pain will grow stronger as I grow weaker, it’s somewhere to hide, somewhere to bleed as I shall wither and fade bearing your image in mind. Is it to be dead to you, is it being scattered remnants of emotions that I persist to try, even though I fail to get to you? Never was old enough to relate though relate we did to such an extent that we met with misery with grins upon our faces. Grown fond of you as the drug that pumps in your veins and makes you the one that addicts, and that does not get addicted… The energy you gave to, and yet still give out is merely the impossibility that I withhold and resist. You hurt, I die, you see, I bleed, everything collides, under my black wings…Who is the fiend? Are you, for not speaking, keeping both lips stitched, or am I? For tempting you into something you never thought you would get into? I hurt, you die, I see, you bleed, and the vicious circle goes on until we meet again and make terms come to the end of the beginning…you hurt, you’re good…and I’m intoxicated….