she thought that I could keep her from harm
resting her head upon my tattooed arm,
I knew that any moment
that her raging torment
would pop off like a screaming alarm.
she knew my problems and I knew hers,
i drank too much, she smoked too much,
i read too much, she bled too much.
she was never meant to be here,
neither was I, and we knew that fate
intervened in our unforeseen state.
so hell, we took advantage of what
was not meant to be,
and we threw our souls
eagerly into this harmony.
this is the world man, this is
how its supposed to be.
because the most alive are ones
who live unguarded, who roll with it,
who heave their hearts into whatever
chaos life throws on their porch.
even in the dreadful storm
they still carry the torch.
one night, with gleaming
lights over Manhattan,
she came in, sexy, scheming,
i swore i was dreaming,
lingerie, heels, sexiness unearthed.
she gave me that damn look,
as she pulled off my tie, shirt, belt.
i mistook her fear as love.
god, there’s such beauty
in her fucking insanity.
she got up on top of me
rotating them hips so I can see,
then the mysterious look,
frantic eyes of an absolutist
while the knife slowly
melted into my throat.
somehow, i knew it man.
i knew this beautiful catastrophe
that I’d thrown my whole self into
would be the utter death of me.
this was my only luxury.