Stop your heart, start the music, choose it and lose it, see; me, injecting with liquid love, mixed alcoholic tugs, gonna take thy soul, black coal furnace in this water filled box, rocks at the bottom of clocked off chopped tube tops, allotted time zones prone to disturbances and high pitched female moans, jack up the bass, mace the DJ and take his place, spin it quick, rickshaw open-maw lockdown laws from a touchy feely clause.
Hold applause, extend wolverine claws, Jaws of Life in each hand with the same “Snikt” brand. Demand you hand over your keys, no, please, not D.D. heeds, you’re going home with me. I’ll drive. See, this is my little insanitarium, an aquarium of daring, scaring your living daylights out until the right might, punching out motherfucker’s lights. Spinning it back, the same track you heard, burst up herds of partygoers, but losers all the rest.
This egg nest. A trance fest test where I’ll eat you out of your very being, seeing black, white out facts, jacked up bass, hasted by face value taste. But back to the matter at chest, breasts hurting at a touch, it’s an audio weapon system, necking up close, heavy petting thy ghosts, a toast if you fail to move to aquarium grooves, soothe tooth fangs, gangs of goosebumps on your flesh as I mesh with body, here in this world. Curled up, warm, charmed by my grace, or the lies on my face.
Stroking softly, knuckles knocking at debauching the tick-tocking. Nighttime axe attacks on your inner mask, tacking up jacks games in lax pains, cutting open veins in slain victims of ant farm Raid raids, insects vexing everything you are, stars in thy eyes that I prize, surmise that’s why my hands are still on your waist, this place for carnal lust, blackjack busts, cologne musks, while I’m starry-eyeing your husks.
The insanitarium aquarium, where in-verbatim continuation of any anticipation foreshadows the needle sticking from thy drink, think quick, blink, it’s gone, and then there’s only you, me and whale song. Took too long, darling, and you’re left among us, prolonged. I’m the treble in your throat, choked on open-neck wails, fail to nail down a constant, flaunted, jaundiced, taunted. I’m breathing smoke into your one lung, a fun unsung verse that tells you I love you through new muses.
So I’m tricking thy second spirit, here it does more than boy, girl or way, couldn’t honestly say, slays thy sense of independence, repentance, lessens tense vents of Lent-bent heathens who’re sent to dent thy sense of person. Searchin’ through your flesh for some form of truth. Forsooth, you’re uncouth and that’s what I’m taking advantage of. Crush blush sunset drinks, jager and puss, just two sips from gory glory, a story of physicality devoid of reality, where we twist on floors, stored in more than just softcore roars, Now this love is wearing off. Stopped dead in your tracks, you pat your arm, charmed at the lack of needle, feebly weebly-wobbling, coddling what you once thought was bliss.
Insanitarium aquarium. You’re not allowed to breathe; so grow gills, chill – still, I’m milling here in water close around, surround sound, waves of beat, heat-steeped in feet moving. Keep sleet outside where I still chime in wind, you know what I am, baby, lady in red, led by the hand from my mouth to my heart, pout, shout for me to come back, yet slack jawed – I’ll only sing you swan songs, because I’m already “Irish-Goodbye” long gone.
Our love affair is over. Grow roots, suit yourself, you can remain forever, but I’ll come back halfway after never, so clever is my disguise, I’ve surmised that you’re jilted in scorn, mourning my desertion, form of an audible assault, your own fault for being so needy, feeding me your body and kisses, near misses to what you thought I could be. But I see your stupidity; I’m too dark for your stark contrast of normal crimson love, gloved hands brushing you away from this fray to stay you from my course. Remorse that you never understood.
I’m an insanitarium aquarium, starin’ ‘em up and down I clown around, up, and breathe sound down into any dance floor I can find. I’m scratching and catching you off guard with this, kissing your eardrums. Just hear them, the angels they sing! And bring with them desperation, alongside exasperations of social station.
I’ve tricked you, baby, maybe you’ll touch the subwoofer to smother your other feelings.
Keeling over out of need.
Just to try and find me again.
Who am I?
