a-wake

watching you, stare at the wall. the big red brick chunk that separates you from the cold outside. I stare for hours, you stare for hours. Climb down from the sofa and grab me by my tie.
i fall down once again.
On the floor i hear the music you turned on, "like spinning plates", the live (and better) version. It is true, i'm really stuck here, with you. A little romantic figure only in my head. i guess all that slapping around is only trying to wake up.

it hurts... i wake up and you are there, like trying to tell me you are not.
All the same i hurry down the stairs to throw you out, but i end up sleeping in the neighbours dog/house.
The thing is i was so bored and horny, i had to knock at your door to tell you that even though you dont like me, i would love to hate you.
i really dont know why, but i hit your name every once in a while, i curse for a few minutes and think about calling you, and then i hide behind my sheets, and sleep with my girlfriend, the one i love to hurt.

nice to know you

Come on, excuse my dirty laundry, dishes all over, my smell, all the arrows that point towards lack of self respect.
If you cross that line, i will have to kiss you.
(your legs move faster than my voice, you throw yourself to the ground and cry)
Better here than in the street, out there it is cold, at least i'm in room temperature.
The tears wake me up again, i've been sleeping for hour while you do your thing.
As soon as i put a pin inside yourflesh, you too wake up, finish sobbing and slap my face like i needed it.
(you reach inside my mouth with your tongue, flickering fire of desireless soft and fast skin brushinghair withoutsensesrespondingnomore......

next time it's your turn

close your eyes, i'm still staring.
Breath in and out, reaching for a reason to stop.
In the middle of this hand touching you, you might find peace.
a striking blow wakes up the beast in you, as you rush to get your blood out of the floor, you smile, staring, and kiss me quickly before going to bed.
And then i cry as you get farther away.
cry in the middle of the night, without music, without scenery, without real pain, but with a nasty smile of pleasure upon your face.
"next time you it's your turn dear"