i feel like we are the last people on earth,
Like we are driving around aimlessly looking for the things we will never find.
They never really exsited to begin with.
You told me that we were walking in the desert with the neon lights,
The ocean in my eyes,
The desert in yours.
We all wanted to be saved by that thing,
By the words,
We were the neon lights, you said as the big black monster showed us his sharpened teeth.
But we will run there if we have to;
We are the last,
Our hearts in our mouths,
Our stomachs full of sleeping butterflies.
We can just chase the sun.
We were in this bookstore once,
The books were filled with blank pages,
A broken man in a chair who once laughed as if he was mad.
He was outside looking in at me,
His face full of something,
Not sadness or hate or greed like most people,
But more like he was thinking,
Like he knew where all the words had really gone.
i wanted to ask the tangled man why he was leaving with his head filled with that storm,
His mouth full of nothing.
Do you still feel like one of those dead things? i heard him whispering, his legs twisted.
You look like a mess.
i shook my head instead of nodding,
Picking up one of the books that was missing it's words;
Or maybe it had words, i just couldn't see them.
He told me that i should make the books have something,
That i could if i just tried.
i don't want to try, i said.
They'll just be fiction, just like everything else.
i'm tired of the fiction no one believes.
After he left, i never saw him again.
Unless i looked at the sky,
Trying to get back into his eyes by climbing all the tallest trees i could find,
Pressing my lips to the fattest clouds,
Opening mouth to the shadow of the sunset.
She came to me in my sleep while i was drunk or stoned.
i can still get you anything, she told me,
Saliva dripping from her lips like she was some sort of wild monster.
i felt her desire for killing,
Asking them how it felt with her teeth against their throats,
Their pulses against her lips,
Their deaths filling her lungs when she sang.
It's true, she wanted to tell them.
i could tear you apart if i wanted to;
You're so willing to die.
One night i screamed at her through bedsheets and pillows,
i hate your killing.
i hate the taste of their broken flesh in my mouth.
But you were once a wolf too, she said smiling, her teeth like wet sharpened bones.
You were a wolf then, you are a wolf now, i thought.
And they call you a goddess in that broken house with twisting pipes,
Your body covered in their bleeding voices.
You can save them, or i can break them, She whispered out an open window.
Maybe we are all just really ghosts with nothing to lose.
They've never known what love really is,
No one's ever even really been in love,
At least not since Eros and Psyche last kissed.
Sometimes i even doubt i do.
When i forget about his voice,
The way he smells,
Killing her new victims in the new darkened rooms.
i was once a wolf, i am still a wolf, she will remind me.