Prince Myshkin goes to the superbowl
Posted on Mon Jul 02 15:05:00 UTC 2007
The first hit's always free kid. You and me, me and you, we're two fierce siberian tigers, a species soul kissing on the edge of extinction, hazy and abrupt. We eat raw meat. Our teeth crunch bone together. You don't exist: yet, not really – 'cept in my head, as a concept, platonic, rare as uranium, as dangerous.
I would rip out my heart and fry it for you. I would use olive oil. I would slice it thinly and feed you little tasty morsels, the very choicest cuts. I would pour myself out into your glass like deep red wine. And if it rained I would throw my body (like an old coat) upon the nearest puddle; for a chance to glimpse up your dress.
I used to be an introvert. I was once much more fearful than I am now.
I would fuck you, so slowly.
As I was looking in mirror this morning I was almost overcome by a gale of unrequited lust.
- - -
Love song for an unknown woman, unsurprisingly unfinished.
I would rip out my heart and fry it for you. I would use olive oil. I would slice it thinly and feed you little tasty morsels, the very choicest cuts. I would pour myself out into your glass like deep red wine. And if it rained I would throw my body (like an old coat) upon the nearest puddle; for a chance to glimpse up your dress.
I used to be an introvert. I was once much more fearful than I am now.
I would fuck you, so slowly.
As I was looking in mirror this morning I was almost overcome by a gale of unrequited lust.
- - -
Love song for an unknown woman, unsurprisingly unfinished.