Sounds Like Shouting In The Dark
I want you to submit to me. I want you to get down on your hands and knees, and give me something to read that you wrote yourself. I want you to see if you can make me smile. I want you to take a chance, and offer something up. I want you, too.
If it were up to me, and I’d keep my head down and just keep digging until a golden skull with diamonds for eyeballs, were uncovered. If it were up to me, I’d have eighteen magic monkey paws, all curled up and granting wishes with terrible curses and minor misspellings.
I could sleep forever in your bed. I could make the place my own, until you got home. I could hold you, hold you to me, hold you fast, hold you in a prison cell made of blood and lies.
I feel like a super-human with bones poured out of cement, and thick layers of steel for skin. I feel like I could burst into the sky like fireworks, and come crashing back down to earth like so much nuclear nostalgia. I could be a rain of poisonous moments. I could be a snake, hidden in the curvature of the carpeting.