You're falling apart,
it shows by the way your skin holds your bones,
weakly.
You're breaking down,
discretely,
and that's about the best thing,
that I could say about you now.
You can dance in the photos,
and try to look cute pouting,
the irony is the realism of it.
You're naked;
sad, lonely, cold.
There's no warmth coming,
into your fragile body,
not even from a young boy,
or an old lover.
I only like watching a breakdown,
when I'm the monster causing it;
we both see the masochism,
and enjoy it.
Human life breeds suffering,
and that fuels us both,
what's happiness?
mostly weakness.
It makes you overindulgent,
complacent and apathetic,
I don't need any of that shit.
I need to run on slow, seeping fumes of sorrow,
live for the harsh bitterness of unrequited love;
you fly at me, a captivating, raging chainsaw,
and I accept you with arms wide open,
you can't cut this skin any deeper.
Chunks of skin are shed off my scarred chest,
the chainsaw dulls itself against my bones,
the flesh grows back fast around the razors,
stopping your furious assault in it's tracks,
until my blood leaks down the metal,
combining with my salty sweat,
I rust out your best assets.
We exchange periods of unrequited love,
until we come apart at our bursting seams,
and your hatred spills onto me like acid,
slicing away what you found beautiful,
you kill the Jekyll and leave the Hyde;
I roar, scream, tear, rip,
a monster, thrashing.
and we hold each other like that,
you corroding, slowly,
me breaking down;
a lover's embrace based on friction,
and resistance,
no harmony.
Life moved much too fast for you,
never moved fast enough for me.
This Hyde-like phoenix was retooled,
to feed on all the shit in life,
the supply was endless.
Who fell apart,
again?
Andy Veilleux 