A Grungy Poem

A forked tongue and a peaceful mind.

The idea to find the words to create 

this sentence;

Only ever exists from a mind that

stays in the present.

This poetic tongue has a certain sway 

that could twist a lie into a million

knots and make it a truth.

To lie is a sin.

To exaggerate something to make it

so pleasing to ones ears,

that its a simplicity of beauty itself.

Thinking to the feeling of what you

end up believing.

When your body is fully alive.

Your body is unconscious and high.

A sort of euphoric pitter patter

weighs on ones brain.

Satisfying each and every nerve that

webs our bodies together.

i recycled my soul and replaced it 

with an organic vessel.

I now taste what I kill.

It's bitter-sweet serenity.

You leave me wanting, needing more.

Leaving me wounded on shaky legs when finished.

Blood underneath my fingernails from ripping

open your flesh as you lay yourself on top.

To lying

To dying

To think that was unsatisfying.

In every way shape and form it was passionately ours

And in every movement, every collided kiss.

We feel. 

And a devilish feeding were vultures

picking in and out of each soul 

progressed over time,

It is real.

I'm not taking my time.

Nothings ever real anymore.

But your reflection, I see myself.

The pattern in our heartbeats,

the rhythm in our voices.

Were on higher ground.

As a contraction of "we"

"We're" heading towards light.

Darkness has no place here.

We found love in such a short time,

but, in every wrestling movement we make 

underneath your sheets.

I want to burn holes in your throat.

My name scarred with the vodka that soaks,

I am not a poet.

I am poetic.

I am a chamber of words with thousands of locks

on my tongue.

But with the fine lines in this ball point,

I can set a whole other world free.

The urge to bleed you out on the bed.

The want to kiss every inch of your bodt

make me insane.

And every breath you take,

with every exhale I make,

Were still stuck in the lustful game.