Exaltation

You infect my head, the process of my thoughts    
I’m overwhelmed with longing and the passion of loathing    
   
I hate you! I want you!    
   
And I’m dying here now your gaze has withered and turned    
to shinier girls that won’t fuck with your head    
all too happy to get down on their knees to please you    
and I know how you like it, eyes alight when they gag    
as you loom over them, filling them with your violence    
   
Fill me with your violence, please!  
Don’t make me beg!    
   
I’ve become a voyeur, a stalker in dark and hidden places    
searching for you, a fly on the wall to your conquests    
remembering the time when I was one of them    
when I believed you loved me, with your hands around my neck    
teeth marking my lips as your own in blood and fiery passion    
   
Where the fuck are you?  
Now that you’ve gone    
   
And I need, I need… I don’t know what I fucking need …    
but I’m sure you have it, and I stumble, fumble at the button on my jeans    
exalting myself behind closed doors    
as I imagine it’s your fingers slick with my desire    
pleasing me like no one else can, in that special way you do    
   
Eyes closed, I can still taste your breath of whiskey, cigarettes and me    
and I’m dying here, bleeding memories and desire onto the floor    
your name sitting razor-sharp on the edge of my tongue    
that I refuse to scream as I fall to my knees in ecstasy and anguish    
overcome with the realisation…    
   
That I fucking hate you!    
   
© Indie Adams 2012