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Fucking missionaries

†  

It was pouring rain and chilly †
when I slammed the door in  
the face of an asshole  
selling me salvation  

Fuck I hate those guys.  

Asked me if I knew the truth  

as if I didnít read that book  
years ago  
and made my choice  
in fucking spite of it.  

I crawled back into bed,  
to warm my cool skin  
against your body.  

Us. Ever in motion  
you kiss the top of  
my head as I make  
ahnks on your chest  
that sometimes looked  
like hearts  

I dream about damnation  
in your arms,  
the hells weíve  
burned in for each other  
all  
this  
time †

and I shiver when you ask †
who was at the door
 

The past is a wraith  
screaming visceral hunger †
for shit that missed its  
angry maw  

and I tell you about the man  
at my door  
screaming repent, †
from a past thatís dead and buried †

your hand tightens  
around my waist  
 
The preacher man can tell us  
what he thinks is right and wrong  
but fuck him.  
we wrestle from this plane  
whatever weíre strong †
enough to take  
AndÖ †

You sigh, because Iím †
riled up and proselytizing my own  
religion against the asswipes  
who like to judge first;  
ask questions later.  

So you tell me our  
secrets,  
(I want you)  
pulling your work shirt  
from my body,  
chuckling when my hair gets caught  
and you murmur †
our secrets †
enough for me  
to calm down and listen  
to the shape of your †
body on mine  
(I want you)
 

But the seedy way that acolyte †
slithered in my subconscious  
as if he was trying to help me  

distracts me from the taste †
of your mouth.  

We can grow.  
Or we are perpetually doomed.  

but Iíll be goddamn  
if a hypocritical fucker who †
preaches that we can  
fight to be †
who we dream to be,  
who we feel we are  
on the inside;  
who we know †
is the best †
version of ourselves  

is going to knock on my door  
with his Jehoviahs Witness tie †
and ask me to get saved †

Tools are used to do †
other people's work †
and that fucker †
was a rusted set of vice grips. †

You do the thing with your †
hands that makes me forget  
that moment in the cold  
makes me forget †
anything but you †

and yesterday †
I knew I was bound for hell  
knew it better than any †
silver studded Judas  
could ever preach  

today I roll you over  
my naked skin on yours  
my slim hands press  
your large hands to the bed  
as I sink onto your hellfire  

my hips roll the burning coals  
into a hungry past  
as we †
sate our lust  
for now †
in each others  
bodies  

and I might as well  
love you tonight  

We were going †
to burn anyway  

 





Written by Betty
Published | Edited 16th May 2024
Author's Note
I fucking hate those guys.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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