A man for such a woman

I don’t understand it, I can’t explain it... the way you move in front of me, infiltrate inside me in ways only devilish women can; and then you dance everywhere beneath the skin I live in, making all my cells spinning in ecstasy. You – feast for all senses, conquering everything that I am, even the blue in the eye… shaping me in what I can only become – yours.

I don’t understand it, I can’t explain it... something is stirring in the background. Dreams are not what they once were, they’re starting to be extremely psychotic, I’m not getting any peace from them… you’re there, driving out of me any trace of sanity… everything that is left of what I am, has your scent written all over it.

I don’t understand it, I can’t explain it; so I'm just going to feel… a man for such a woman;)

Ars Diaboli

Existential imperfection on a bloody Sunday afternoon, so properly fucked, it’s beyond any recognition of an afternoon. Disruptive thoughts unclear in their resolution, only because of their confusing origin. Heat upon existent heat wave maiming me and leaving marks on my consciousness, and through this sweat something aches to get out of me; again, with an unclear intention.

Total disharmony of industrial sounds screaming loud from the speakers, aggressive fucking remainders that the sun is not what it once used to be – all good. Pictures of explicit violations in the front lobe of my wicked mind, diabolical intention of committing a heinous crime, crime against myself. 

And in this despicable forest of naked branches, I think of the reasons for all this profanity of such ongoing deranged thoughtful deconstruction of myself… A woman, devilish woman – oh, you can bet that sweet ass, you’re going to pay for all of this;)