segfault.

cold.

anger.

white.

the ceiling shouts metaphors as our bodies tangle together

carpet burns melt into stifled moans

i can't see past your hair anymore.

your voice is my dulcet muse

jesus would be wasted on you

who needs a star in the sky when i have one right here?

oh god oh god oh god oh god.

we are cliched voices; pounding against the the walls of the world.

twitching memories and trembling souls

virgin and crazy lying soaked in ourselves.

i think your eyes are where he hid that fucking apple.

scars

skin

contented sighs and writhing breaths

you are my original sin

you are my second coming

i am lying here in rusted moments

mangled in your religion.