Risk dripping down my slits like salt water
Only those with wounds still open will feel it.
Yet it’s healing,
Reeling from the thought of the enticement of concealing
No shame in this strut but 
Handprints on my gut being rung out like the evidence
Got your heart in mine but call me Edward,
Wrapped around a cutting finger,
Cunning,
Running in circles as if the result may differ
Like a front-
Row seat at the matinée,
We all know the outcome sucks but we’ll enjoy this misery.

Scenery for binary propaganda 
Slammed like the door, face on the floor
Sweetly caress til objectives are met,
At least yours…
Make dirty love to me like I’m
The best disaster to ever happen to you
Then get outta my bubble that you hardly penetrated,
Then get outta my box you hardly penetrated
Satiated by how much you don’t know,
Turning me up thinking you have the control,
Worked up because when I’m with you,
I fantasize about punching my fist so far through the wall 
That the scissors would break off my hands like vindication
And so much pain would be released
That it could only get better thereafter.

An attractive catastrophe that you just can’t turn away from
Because wrong feels so right and right feels like 
Déjà vu, some distant memory I can’t quite locate
Gated, syndicated
With security lacking
Perhaps that’s the reason I
Crave so much passion and 
Thrive off the power held in broken scissor fingers.
No gloves, dirty love
More stubborn than the next
Handled with a handle
Classic, classless mess
As if we’re both actors in each other’s delusions
And the crazy people clap as the climax is reached…
Too bad our screen plays don’t correspond.
The idea more enthralling than the story itself
Secrets to gnaw on like claws.
Scratches down your back, 
A drawing with the purpose to be surreptitious. 
So make dirty love to me
Like I’m the best disaster to ever happen to you.