MY PRICES TO PAY

her deadly divine

i hold a match in my mouth
coat it with the oil from my thoughts and light it against the jutting of the bones

i sit upon

the wings woven to my back are not mine; they are not yours either

they are simply the desecrated trophies of what i was supposed to become

they sit light on my spine, stripped of their feathers, the spindles suffocate from where they drag

behind me

i'll tell you that i regret my choices, and scratch across your skin that i don't

which would you prefer darling, the lies i say? Or the lies i show?

it's for my bleeding heart and your bleeding soul

that i unstitch myself, watch the way

you quiver before me

beg me to stop

but i am a degenerate; a god if you must

and the only thing that can stop me is my blood on my mouth

the wine given from your tongue