xxiv

what if I promised sacred flesh?
what of my brittle wrists?
i’ll cum and cry on camera for you
seeing angels when i break and bruise
blue lines all smudged into my eyes
i read the reds in tide even though i’m colourblind
made you laugh when i cut the binds
sweet kiss the sweat that stains my thighs
dragging nails through fabric fawning
adore me most when i’m suffocating
i’m wrong to need you, i’m wrong to leave you
you hate the way i hurt you back
it’s easier to lie with spines aligned
it’s easier to bleed when the pain is earned
castrate what no longer brings satisfaction
grip the flame until the marrow turns ashen
my sins wear better on cleaner skin
my conscience slips at the smirk of your whims
let the scars form in place of recognition
a pursuit of remission from the kindest intentions