Poetry #6: Violence

I'm back with a new poetry segment. Please be aware that the below piece (that has been grouped together, because they follow a story line) is definitely 18+. If you are not comfortable with sex, bad language, violence, etc don't read this. You have been warned. 

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Jubilee

You scare me. Not in the ways you should, no the violence calls to me. You scare me, because I can see how you could so easily wreck my heart. 

It wouldn't be difficult even, for you to step around the walls I've spent years building. 

I always said I would need someone who could stabilize me, but then I found you. Or did you find me? I don't remember, but it doesn't matter now anyway. 

You will never be my sun, no my planet will spin out of control in your orbit. But I wonder if that's exactly what I need. 

Lose a little control, float among the stars without a care.

But inevitably I will crash back down, covered in black star dust, trying desperately to remember who I am. It is not in my nature to let go, to be out of control, but with you I can almost imagine it working. 

Maybe our souls will circle for a little while, enjoying the way they mesh together. Broken.

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Violence I

I should avoid your violence, I'm too easily sucked into the way it feels to release that anger. To be around someone who isn't afraid of the blood lust. Because, god, I want to fuck you while blood is dripping off my teeth. Because I'd never be afraid of hurting you. Because I'd reveal in the chaos we could create. 

Let's be beastly together. 

I wonder if the sound of you breaking someone would turn me on? If the chaos of my being would find its silence in your violence? 

Maybe we'll find out. Watch as you fight, maybe I'll feed my own lust, let my nails rip into someone's skin. Chaos and violence feeding me. 

The sound of flesh hitting flesh like music to my ears. Wonder if you realize? I'd probably let you fuck me into oblivion after, knuckles bruised, someone's else blood drying on your skin. Bruise me if you want, I don't care. 

But don't forget that later, I will remind you. Remind you that I am not breakable, that I am just capable of leaving marks as you. That there is a reason you chose me. 

Maybe we'll stay sated for a while, but the violence, the chaos, it can only stay away so long. Inevitably we'll return to it. 

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Violence II

We both know violence is not poetic, as much I write about with flourish, with pretty words, it isn't beautiful. Not when you're sitting in the shower, water so hot it burns, while you scrub your skin until the normal pinkness turns almost as red as the blood dripping in your conscious. 

It's the way my hands are shaking as I write this. It's spending days watching them shake uncontrollably because the need to release the extra energy is so strong. It's avoiding alcohol, because I don't trust myself. It's hiding when the mood to walk my bloody boots into your apartment and fuck you strikes. 

It is having so few fears you scare the people you love. Because if you can survive everything you already have, when death was so close, why be afraid at all? It's people pointing out your 'vibe' or 'murder walk', it's the 'you smile like you bite' or the 'you scared me when I first you.' It will always be the first thing people notice about you; your violence. 

I know it can't possibly last, violence and chaos are unsustainable. Like a hurricane that will wreak havoc, but ultimately fizzle out. Because no one can maintain my level of chaos forever. 

It's easy to get lost in, my brand of release and relief. People don't realize they've done it until it's too late.

You are a paradox to me. The violence, the anger, all of that I can understand, I can relate, but the other half, the neediness, the sweetness. I find myself afraid to admit that I have no idea how to handle it.

No one has ever sought comfort from me, they do not know the parts of me that are loving, because there's too much risk and vulnerability in love. 

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Blood Lust

I've always struggled to contain my anger. Avoiding confrontation when possible, knowing that the way it boils out of me isn't healthy. 

The way tears rush down my face in anger, throws you off the first time it happens. Maybe because you're so used to my coldness, to my need for blood. You didn't realize that I could even cry.

I avoid you occasionally, because I feel myself becoming less guarded, more honest. Can't let you see my discomfort. In trying to keep the facade alive I destroy it, showing the heart tucked in my black deck of cards. 

But I always resort back to the blood lust, because I trust it to protect me. I can stalk the streets alone, watch people move away from me, knowing I'm seeking something...dangerous. Let the pounding music in my ears wash way the fears your interest causes me. 

It should have been simple to push you away. The way I shake constantly, the heat, my bite, my voice, my faked apathy. All of it should have been the perfect recipe to drive you away. 

But you don't seem to care that sometimes I have a fire in my eyes that lends so closely to madness. You ignore my awkward attempts to brush you off, the bitchiness. It doesn't seem to faze you. 

Why do you have to remind me of him? I can't exactly pinpoint a specific trait that you share, but I feel it in my bones when I talk to you. I wonder if it's some kind of divine punishment. To torture my blood lust with the flairs of protectiveness. I want to stop people from hurting you, and that worries me.

Because I also want you to protect me, and I've never needed protection before. I have too much blood lust to be protected. 

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Chaos

You ignore my chaos, maybe you are too wrapped up in your own to recognize my instability. Or maybe that's the very reason you stick around. See how far my violence goes. See if I can equal you, fulfill some need for attention you have. 

I am my father's daughter, too loud, too angry, prepared to do anything to survive. I can't be like her. I am not sweet, I do not need you, I value my independence too much to let you have all of me. I am not pliable, I cannot be shaped into the perfect girlfriend. 

I will fight you, and I'll win because I can't let you be in control. It's too dangerous, handing over every piece of me to anyone. 

No ring will ever sit upon my finger, proudly declaring that I am owned. I am not a prize to be won, no one would want the type of damage I come with anyway. 

And yet, you haven't run away. I have no idea how to cope with that. 

You've made promises you can't possibly keep, but a part of me almost wants to believe you. But I can't be fooled, no one stays, so neither will you. 

I can't let myself fall, because my chaos enjoys you. I can feel that part of me begging for you. It's distracting, because it demands too much. It wants to own, to remind that I am always in control. 

It's my shaking hands, desperately fidgeting because I want so badly to slap you. To wrap a hand around your throat, while straddling your lap. Bite you until your breath is coming in fast pants. Swallow your cries, laugh at the way you squirm. 

Don't worry I'll make sure you enjoy it. 

Remember pain and pleasure are a very fine line. 

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Well that it for this segment I hope you enjoyed. Be back soon with something new.

Taila Out!