desperation

Desperation is a wonderful feeling. So sinfully sublime. One of the most intense cravings.

You stare at me with hollow eyes. You’re always elsewhere. Running towards far away lands that have nothing to do with me. You’ve let me to deal with my own hatred and loneliness. Because I once swore I would never need anyone. And right now the fury of the underworld is an unworthy rival of mine. Because I need you and a treacherous physical pain always accompanies that statement. And I revel in it for it is the only sensation I am allowed. You’ve stripped me of the freedom I once clutched and the most unnerving thing is that I don’t want it back. I love to be lost in the dispair that you casted upon me and I enjoy every ounce of pain the memory of you causes.

I like to play with people. And sometimes I think you’re playing with me. Like I’m the toy car your mother never bought you. But you don’t care enough to play. You cast me aside when you’ve had your fill and I’m left waiting for the next glance of you I might get. My muscles ache when you’re not near me and my brain seems sore when you are. I can never be happy. Because getting what I want is never what I expect it to be. Why do I love the torture you put me through? And why do I think of revenge everytime I’m in your arms?