I don't mind it so much... those
moments of madness - when you loose control and all I can do is wait
for the emotions to come crashing down on top of you... and I have to
dig you out of the ruble of your insanity... I listen for the tired
whimpers under the fading dust cloud that is left after your nuclear
breakdown... and though I don't really know what I am supposed to do
or say when I find you... let alone heal you of the demons that
conquer you and abandon you...
I imagine all my whores – crawling
out of the fog of my desires... drunk off the passion I drowned them
in with promises of something more in a city near the sea... where
no-one knows us... I seduce them into tears and leave them in angry
despair... because... I really am just an ass-hole... my sweet lovely
fragile whores... where would I be with out you?
But...
this morning...
I find it hard to walk out on you...
so...
I wait...
because there is nothing I can do or
say...
but there is something inside of me
that needs to see you like this... some morbid and deranged part of
me that seems to want to feed off of your shattered mind and bruised
soul... you will hate me when you learn that... maybe... just
maybe... I am aroused by it... I must be... because I always seem to
find myself with the most insane of all women... beautiful... but
bat-shit crazy...and here I am again.
I knew you were this way and I knew
this would happen... I was just counting the days until you let it
out... but don't blame me when you destroy your room because I am not
there to cage the beast of your lust... and subdue her with the same
old lies I let slip in the dark... in carefully calculated
whispers... designed to melt away whatever is left of the walls young
girls built around them to protect their emotional chastity from men
like me... words crafted in secret libraries where Russian poets
drink themselves blind until the memories of love and the Czar have
gotten lost in the putrid scent of fading pages on shelves that have
collapsed under the weight of the dreams of an empire lost to the
chaos of history... words conjured up by candle-light in Gadreel's
garden, perfumed in the smoke of the Dragon Queen's own daughters,
configured to enslave you by your own desires of which I posses the
key and only when you race across town to abandon yourself to the
fire and surrender your lust to me will the thirst of your
concupiscence be silenced... and then... when I have satisfied my own
hunger for your beauty and your youth and you lay spent and
debilitated... then... my darling... I will call up the demons of
your madness from the dark cave of your heart... to drown us in the
rage of your madness once more until the world comes crashing down on
us from the weight of the lies I fill your dreams with that no broken
hearted Russian poet could have ever conceived of in a sober state...
because my little doll... those tears... swelling up in your chest...
they now belong to me...
You knew what kind of man I really was
– in-spite of the man I want to be and the man I pretend to be...
but still... you wanted to play my game... and until you come to your
senses and run away... far, far away from me... this is the game of
desire and lust with me.
McGinnis
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