Friday, March 16, 2007

a view to the kill

He's sweet tongued and sensual, sensible and he wants me.
Heavy melody drifting down resting on my lips, eyelids, denser than air.
The timbre makes me swoon, its all honey bass and bass guitar and classical piano.
His charm is laced with this vulnerability, it's potent and it's the kind of openhearted sincerity that brazenly begs annihilation, borders on self-destruction.
I think I'm in trouble.
His desire makes me tremble in my armor as I realize my sirens and war drums are useless now that he has a taste for it, all of it, fruit, body, mind, soul, life, nectar, skin, and seeds.
He will devour me until I break, until I learn to harmonize.
Saccharine nothings are light and harmless, carried away by wayward breezes.
But these wine soaked riffs, these rhythms reverberate down in the deep.
So thick, you can still smell some of the notes on your hair long after the song is over.
It's not lovers rock and chocolate candy anymore, its soul metal creme de cacao mixed with gin, hard liquor.
We take shots. We take shots.
Intoxicated off the rhythm and bliss..revel in fcking wasted, and we only pause to blaze.
In any case I figured including the piece that gave this abomination its title would be fitting. Later on I think i'll play Lit. major and break my own work down line for line like a dramatic cunt. Muahz.