Sometimes I can’t get your scowl off my lips; they curl back over my teeth of their own accord, a grimace of pain, a snarl of back-the-fuck-off, and I can’t tell if I’ll lash out or tear at my own flesh; I just want to be closer to becoming you, this beautiful wreckage of a man, this strange angel who leaves ashes in place of fingerprints; I would burn offerings in my throat for you and ink them into my skin with needle and knife, I would worship you in metal and blood and bruises if you would but bless this pathetic mortal body as your temple.
Why thank you.
Damn…visceral and amazing.
Characters will drive you to that. Thank you.