we know the things we do are not for loveMature

We know the things we do are not for love,

but for something more haunting, something

soaked in darkness like gasoline and set fire to

like a molotov cocktail burning in your hand and

you’re standing there, looking around, full of the

taste of power and control and you’re wondering

where you should throw this thing, what you should

destroy simply because you can, because it’s there

in your hand and you want it.  That’s enough, right?

These instincts make better arguments without words

than the thread of morality still alive in both of us has

in all these years, all these days and nights that have

gone by unused, that have said now is your chance,

why don’t you act?  And what was our answer, our

cheap excuse?  Do you even remember?  All this time

wasted because of things that are not strong enough

to hold us back, not really, not when we really want it,

when we’re rabid for it.  We’ve been sick with this for

a decade now and every year it gets worse.  These

fever dreams and mood swings do nothing to keep

us away from each other, merely provide excuses -

hey, let’s get drunk, it’s been a long week.  What

are we trying to accomplish by playing with fire?

We know the way it burns like we swallowed lit coals

and we know the cliff-edge is weak and crumbles

beneath our feet, but we keep stepping closer

to look over the edge, our hearts racing like we

might actually be aware we’re close to slipping.

Are we aware or is this all another fever dream?

Are we slipping in or slipping out, does this change

anything?  Can you remember what life felt like

before this?  Would you recognize it to see it?

These worlds have merged so close together

I’m not sure which is which anymore.  Was it you

I kissed on New Years?  Was it you who wrecked

our car in the summer and clutched at the needles

poking into his veins like they were spiders trying

to lay eggs in him?  Or was it you who picked me up

from the hospital, you who filled my drink, you who

hides in my periphery like an alternate timeline?

The End

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