Chemical Impulse

Sometimes knowing nothing, is better then knowing at all, but lately my imagination’s got a mind of its own, trembling down along the edge of dreams, tempting curiosity to cross that line, the fragile cliché for peering inside a distorted looking glass, a reluctant glimpse into my nightmare… luring me in with familiar whispers of distant lullaby’s.  Only just a taste of all that might come to be, but in the end, nothing I bleed for is more tormenting.  My senses keep telling me to stop before I tear myself apart, to catch my breath and realize what I’ve got at stake, a different circumstance and another torpid face, but it’s still the same old trip as every other time.   Talk will always be cheap, been so held up with holding on tightly, but my problem is that I’ll never change.  Consider the obvious, you represent the absolute worst of all my habits, every reckless dark desire, void of all discreet, twisted just enough to entertain you, but things aren’t always as they seem, and I never once stood a chance living up to, let alone against your standards.  So tell me then, just how dangerous is second best?  Honestly unimportant, it’s really of no consequence, regrets will always work, but excuse are better suited, so save your breath, I wont be the one to disappoint you anymore, besides, you’ve known all along I was only another goodbye.  See, it’s not like I didn’t mean what I said when I said you were like a fucking drug deal.  Exceedingly pale white skin breaking out into a cold sweat, hands shake uncontrollably as a passing shiver taunts the spine and lingers amidst every nerve, the tingle remains of pins and needles pulsing blindly just below the thin flesh surface, hopeless with anticipation.  Every ounce of blood rushes to my head as I pace in circles by the door, each moment passing ever slower then the last, as if I’ve nearly lost my sanity.  I’m well aware I shouldn’t let this torture me so sweetly, but this waiting only makes me want it that much more.  A small dose or lethal injection, it doesn’t matter, the substance is well worth the impending comedown, with a high surpassing any pleasure experienced beforehand, but still… I would never wish this burden upon someone not already dead, I couldn’t offer the gates of hell to a life who claims something worth living for.  Each hit arousing fate, imploring danger and flirting with suicide, borderline insanity.  Lacking in good judgment and all forms of self preservation, but I never felt a need to adapt, the inborn fear of dying, inherent within us all, disappears the instant you personally ask for the beating, although the abuse vaguely resembles hallucinations from home.  True addictions are only meant for the masochistic, those mentally unstable, fucked up from the start but disturbed even further by anti-psychotic prescriptions and a lifetime of unsolicited accusations, questioned, and labeled offensive, no doubt sick in some aspect, so long as your among the few, unbiased, and entranced in the beauty of inviting these deadly vices, finding a peculiar comfort laced within unbearable pain.  You see these cuts and bruises?  Seemingly harmless for the time being, but soon enough they’ll develop scabs and blister, a simple implication of the healing process, although severely impaired from over exposure to self infliction, young in experience but a natural defense already exhausted, tired and much too far behind to progress, natures given up attempts at repairing itself.  I guess I’m on my own, and these wounds are becoming more akin to a never ending loop, now I’m the trigger and a last chance treatment of this rabid infection.  I damaged myself, but you’re my persistent inspiration, the bad influence shamelessly asking me to bleed some more, relentless, though eventually even the deepest of injuries become an ageless scar, a permanent fixture with a story I won’t soon forget.  The timeless masterpiece in its own right, so I roll my sleeves up, unashamed, to uncover my little indiscretion and proudly show my trophy display of tainted memories.  This current situation demented more then enough, although you did this to yourself, unknowingly handed over all the ammunition ever needed to pursue life long revenge.  Picked out your own pistol and slipped it under the table, locked and loaded, even showed me where to aim.  Of course I don’t feel guilty, your misstep surpassed the whole accidental death wish phase, now you’re just asking to be shot by the very bullet purchased with every intention of shooting me.  Sure, eventually you’ll get what you deserve, but I will always suffer, so do yourself this favor, if nothing more, a shallow lesson left for the taking, and with your selfish motivation, you could easily take this for more then it’s worth.  Amazing, you’re breaking every single promise right before my very eyes, even as we speak, but the sad thing is that you wont even spare me a moments grace, couldn’t you at least pretend to care?  Please, just save me from another sleepless night spent second guessing my doubt and deciphering your every word and pregnant pause, stop with all the cryptic double meanings, no more sweet talk masking bullshit lies.  Spit it out already, I want to get it straight this time because I’m not sure how much longer I can play along with your make believe fantasies.  Don’t you understand what’s happening?  Sometime you have no other choice but to lay your cards on the table and fold before you’re found out.  You’re already pushing your luck, I’ve already caught on, but you’re assuming my innocence and intentions are one in the same, mistaking my stitch worn heart for vulnerability, and past regret for weakness.  You’ve got me pegged all wrong.  Never take for granted the fact that the very bridge you helped to build, can easily be lit on either end, and I’m just dying to burn your lying ass down.  Fueling the flames now consuming reason, and I can’t really define the origin of this sudden impulse, the lack of self control is urging me on to seek out vengeance, and no, I’m not sorry, it’s taking every last ounce of energy stored as it is, just to hold myself back, I can barely even breathe, and all I want is to hurt you so badly, worse then any pain you’ve ever dreamt possible.  I just want to hear you screaming my name in anguish, begging me to finish you off, begging for mercy.  If I could just force you to swallow every bitter drop of your rancid pride, I’d move on, although not nearly a punishment comparable to what you’ve put me through, I think it’s a fair trade.  Do you think it’s funny, what the fuck you’re doing to me?  So very easily amused with yourself, stroking your overgrown and underdeveloped ego, by simply knocking others down.  Your sick philosophy is always getting you off, finding tragedy a more then erotic tool, as you passively state the obvious.  Yeah, look how pretty she now is as she hits the cold, hard ground, with jet black mascara tears, bleeding down her face.  But it takes a fucking bastard to cheat a way out of his own game.  You know that didn’t count, the fall can only be broken when it happens on its own, and I don’t appreciate you always tripping me up with your every fucking word, that’s an unfair advantage.  I guess it’s my mistake though for trusting you, I should have known just what to say when the most I could do was blame myself.  So tell me now, what's another word for “I don’t need to hear this from you”?