Chapter Text
I want to wrench these feelings from me. Burn them in a trash can. Bury them in an unmarked grave. It's unending and stupid and walks in a circle. I think of you and wretch. Tight strings of my chest rip my ribs from me. The organ in my chest isn't a heart. It's a weeping desperate cunt. My lungs are full of oil and my blood has somehow, miraculously, been replaced by battery acid.
Wanting is a sickness. The more you want, the less you have. Stay mysterious. Stay sweet. Stay cool. Stay cool. Stay cool. Lest i open my desires wide enough for you to spit inside. Stay cool. Stay cool. Stay cool. When all I want is to crawl within you, to live in your skin and not mine. For relief. For a breath of air and not oil. For drowning and not drowning and living vicariously.
An addict loves the addict and loves the addiction more than life itself. More than water. More than sex. An endless pit of warm disgust to forget the world. And I forget the world in you, my love. I am an addict of many things, one of which is you. For that I am self-flagelating. For that I am unforgiving.
The only saving grace is the slim hope that my disgust is returned by yours in my direction. That perhaps you wish to live within me too. To breath in my air and not your oil. But I am a coward. An annoying child. A beast. Some inhuman wanting thing that wants for you. Wants to be wanted by you. So, without speaking, without breathing. I watch you go about your business. Then I leave. And I'm happy. I'm happy. I'm happy this way.
But it's fate. It's fate. You said it. Some things cosmic. Tied together. My north node conjunct your south. It's something. It's there. It's real. And if I don't believe myself, I believe you. I knew it the moment I met you. That I knew you before. That I've always known you.
And I want to tell a story.