Growth

Fear, the ever watchful demon
Upon the shoulder of
My peeling, crumbling skin
Under your fingertips

Feel the scars, the cracks
As you trace them with
Your careful, thorough hands
Not to force any pieces free.

And when you finally see how
Damaged, broken I can truly be,
Don't be surprised when my
Flesh cage is brutally torn open -

My anger, focus, and will brought forth
To peel away this prison
I wanted to believe was
All I could ever be -

Revealing to the believers,
The true friends, the worshipers,
What I can truly be,
And what I can truly become.

Compulsion

Give me your hand, your wrist;
Your trusting flesh under my own
Shaking grasp for the first time,
Wondering if you'll understand
That I still want to be your friend.
"You may not remember
What has happened here today."
My hopeful, alcoholic words filling out
The gaps in your weakened mind.

My spiral eyes in your conscious,
Gently caressing and brushing away
The surface thoughts to sweeten
Them with nothing but a dream.

My friend, my savior, my hope -
Could you even forgive me for
The monster you have released
From my ever-caged hunger
You have never believed in?
When my teeth, sharpened and
Bursting forth with anticipation
Finally grazed your sickly sweet,
Savory, necessary fluids?

My sanity slowly dripping away
Before your unbelieving sight,
My tongue pressed against
Your bloody, pulsing wrist.

"It will only sting for a moment."
My honeyed, silken words lean
Against your mental shields and
Soak through as a mist moving
Through a slightly cracked window.
The relief on your face tells me,
It will all be okay, in the end.
And I bite, and you don't scream,
The sting only for a brief moment.

My face contorted slightly,
Though you can not pinpoint how;
Or how to describe the dissonance
Of loving to lose so much blood.

Could the aftermath of such a
Mesmerizing, cathartic dance
Truly ruin what we once had?
I drink, until I no longer care.
The blood fills my near empty
Passages, veins filling with
Your softly singeing, tingling
Life essence until I am awake.
I see you on the ground, half dead.

"Well, aren't you a tough one?"
My voice rings out, cold and
Emotionless, conniving, with a
Disgusting clarity of tone.

I crouch down closer to your
Beautiful, cold features.
The marks tell a story of which
I no longer remember.
The snow begins to cover you.
I lift you up, wondering;
My friend, my savior, my hope -
Could you ever forgive me
For being half alive, forever?

Player (Two)

My unsuspecting, idiot jock boy
Who believed that somehow
Feigned love would
Win me over:

You let me hug you, but did you realize
How capable I am of tightening,
Enveloping, squeezing, til I
Heard your last breath?

Just an ounce of whole truth from your
Sickening lips of your plans,
Befuddling my palace mind,
And I would have.

But what if you had won this game;
This competition for my honor,
You had so direly
Tried to win --

When reality washed into you a thought:
That perhaps I'm not the perfect waifu
Your body had wanted,
Begged me for?

What then?

Would the unsatisfying sex have been
Enough for you? Or was this
Just another of your failed
Long term plans?

Pretending your way through your
False friends, dispassionate sex,
Your power-trip career,
All with me --

Dangling alongside you like a paper
Doll, dangling in the breeze,
Just yours to play with
Once you're bored?

And since you've lost this game,
Will you hold it against me,
Your last shred of human
Holding on by a thread?

Watch me, as I rise above your
Tainted, viscous fluids and
Weep, as I will have
Never chosen you.