—

we're ten minutes past midnight but it doesn't mean a thing.

j/b

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I call her the Devil
cause she makes me wanna sin
and every time she knocks
I can't help but let her in

—

—

I want dirt under my fingernails, I want your hips arching into mine, I want a disaster, I want your useless love for me beating as you moan. I want red welts scored across my body, the tiny crescents from your short nails digging into my shoulders. I want your guardedness, too much of it before you burst open into the easiest puzzle ever made. I want to feel how pathetically human you are with my hands held tight around your waist, pulling you onto to me harder and further. I want your dirty angel mouth against my cheek, my neck, my ear, whispering stupid love, whispering your body's wants; harder, faster, I hate you, I love you. I want to know how bad we are for each other, how much we can never synch our paths: wanting but not caring, loving without it returned, a jerk of your head to pull my hand away, a fuck—nothing but ease and want and release.

I want your rough demands like you think they make you in control, your need for a cigarette afterwards despite quitting, your lithe body pale and marked, spread on my sheets. I want your taste: your dizzying honey mouth, the sweet skin of your neck, the sweat between your breasts, the musky bitter sweetness as you ride my mouth, your own hands groping and needing and hungry on your body.

I don't want an innocent love but your tainted fucked up brand, one that has been beaten up, tossed aside and left forgotten on the floor like your clothes. I don't want innocence or care nor do I need gentleness and patience. No, I need your body crushed under mine until you feel as choked as me. I need your hateful words and unrestrained moans because you have already given up on heaven; curses falling out of you until you find your salvation in a scream with yours thighs wrapped around me. Salvation is a lie anyway, so shut up and help me find my own.

I don't want you, I promise, I just want your forgotten sin-filled love and your devil's mouth because we are bad for each other, and although you don't love me now, you loved me once and that is enough. I knock on your door and it is bland like any anonymous apartment building except for you in the middle of it, half naked and smoking like you were waiting for me to come around and fuck you. We are terrible for each other, yes, but we are worse with anyone else and your porn star lips are beckoning me closer and your dirty voice makes sinning a crooning lullaby against my ear.