I. Rosary

Forgive me father, for I have sinned.

And no confession can save me now.

As if we cared. He took that crucifix and turned it on it's head. Took that star and smeared it with blood, spun and spun until oceans leaked from dry eyes.

I remember the first time I noticed him and I mean really noticed him. He offered no words, no smile, just a leather jacket and a crimson lighter and immeadiately I was in love.

With a boy I used to hate, loathe, in my dreams we fought in disgust and I always, always won. In a way I still do. It's me who will laugh last. And the longest. And cry until he can hear me in hell.

We danced, slow, steady and his hand trailed to the bottom of my back. He traced the scar, a twin of his own, it's fleshy ribbon and saline quality and murmered into my crown of scarlet curls that "A little piece of me. I've always been around, don't you ever forget"

And I swore that I wouldn't.

He ushered me into a corner and we kissed to the thumping, sultry beat that wittled us down to ecstasy. His voice conquered my neck and permeated it with lust as he growled. "This is all your fault, everything has always been for you and you never even realised"

I didn't know what it meant. Or rather I refused to share responsibilty.

"Hate and love are the same thing, don't let anybody tell you any different"

And I never questioned it either. How could I when we were here? The ugly, alive truth?

Everything fell into place from there.

II. Eden

In our minds, we were unstoppable.

We rolled back onto the snow, where ice meets fire and the water of heaven. Watching the burning church, open it up and find no people. No steeple. But burning gilded pages that choked on our punishment, stain glass saints weeping for the degenerates who set the place alight. Flammable colours sinking into one and exploding in an inferno that was so very chemical.

We laughed, crazy, bitter selfish. He roped me in for a kiss and through our hatred it became rough.

We lost our friends. We were too weird, broken, different from the crowd. Hearts of gold, flip the coin and it's tainted with black. He was good deep down, it was intrinsic, natural, beautiful but it scuttled off into the shadows as his original sin drank every last drop of attention he could muster.

He was beautiful, in a way I couldn't describe. And if he was an angel, his broken feet, covered with thorns, was limping in the wrong direction.

Insisting that I follow him. Where was I to go?

We drank in his basement, until the sun crept in through the window.

We smoked underneath the bleachers, silent, not stopping unless it was to kiss or hiss bitter sweet poems of affection. He had a way with words.

We were nocturnal, vampires, monsters discarded and with my conscience thoroughly ripped to shreds, everything seemed right.

And we were going down together. No turning back. Whatever we stole, burned, ruined with our searing touch was a joint effort.

It was all for him, I'd smile through a whiskey grin.

It was all for me, he'd smirk with his miscreant charm.

He carved a swastika onto my arm. I carved a star onto his.

Bad things. Cruel, reckless, a disaster. All we've ever lived for.

What could be more fun?

III. Purgatory.

I had never held a gun before, until he told me that it would look beautiful in the grasp of my slender, arachnid fingers. Curled, poised, ready, one quick flick and a bullet shot out like a hound set to kill.

One bite. All over. Red.

Crimson. Scarlet. Burgundy. His eyes are that colour in my dreams, my demon boy who's only good for me.

The bullet was lodged in someone. I can't remember who. Somebody who I was supposed to hate. Who was just as bad as we were.

Who are we kidding, he'd grumble through the cigarette in between his lips, no one's as bad as us.

The back of his car. Kissing heavily, biting, squeezing, adrenaline igniting. Green flitted around us, great men pitying us and shaking their heads in shame. I didn't care. Didn't give a fuck. We both kicked chairs over and threw our fair share of tantrums whenever we were questioned.

Until the cops come. Ha, they never came.

We zipped along the horizon like an incandescent star.

Going.

Going.

Gone.

Literally. Eyes red, lungs caked with foul, beautiful stuff. Like a whore's kiss, lips as red as a rose, tasting of ash and a second hand rush. With him it was magical, spectacular, something special. On my own it was always raining, make up ran and no clever lights to hide the bad stuff. Disgusting.

Without him, there was fire, relentless and suffocating black.

And with him was heaven, cruel, a joke and tempting me for a second.

And the worst place to be was in between. Believe me, you don't wanna get stuck there.

IV. Samson and Delilah

Yep. It's us again. Ready to make your job that much harder.

Those two kids in black who carry guns and watch too many old movies. The funny ones, who hold hands, who's silver handcuffs gleam and kiss when they're wrists clash. Sickening. In between the whores and the drunks and the weirdos and the angry guys. We're here, making polite conversation, smoking, laughing at our own private jokes and our lips are always too close for your liking.

Kyle.

The fool.

The missing piece.

The voice of reason. Yeah right.

"You know, you're a lot stronger than you think you are" He whispered that to me after our first fight, both trembiling, stubborn, covered with bruises. He reached out for my hand but I snatched it away just in time, I saw him smiling hungrily and I had to pretend that I didn't feel this withering heart of mine skip a beat.

Eric

The devil.

The kingpin.

The misunderstood kid.

With hollow eyes and the kind of attitude that makes you think he could pull off this sociopathic character in his sleep. He doesn't need to pretend. It's all so effortless.

Folie a Deux

Yeah, we're crazy alright.

To those who refuse to listen.

Let us talk to you and maybe you'll understand.

Doubt it.

Why do we do it?

Because we're bored. Confused. Stifled. Conflicted. Crying for help. Begging for attention.

It's all so desperate. But you wouldn't like that to be true, would you?

So you just call us nuts, give us a warning, send us on our way.

Because that's so much easier.

V. Lessons

Sucking the powder off his fingers I murmured Teach me
Who's boss
Who I belong to
He
Tied me up
Hurt me
Made me bleed
Made me scream
Sliced me from elbow to shoulder
Bit me until I hissed
Sucked me until I moaned
Spread me
Pawed at me
Deep until tears, blood, (amongst other things) dripped
Thighs moist
Body numb
His kiss metallic, studded, leaving me bruised
His name tattooed on my swollen lips
The one word I cried, seared across my heartline

A full moon later, while he fingered the nooks of my spine he growled Teach me
How to break
How to show that I care
He
Kissed me until I choked
Exchanged love between our wanting ears
Traced and licked until I whined
Held me all through the night
Shared everything
A chorus of moans
Moved inside me
Slow and shallow
Hard and deep
Until I wept, squeezed red ecstasies through my burnt out eyes

And we slept for eternity.

VI. Lucifer

He's dangerous, you know.

Don't you think I realised that?

Why do you even bother?

Because I love him.

I love him.

Love him. Cross my heart and hope to die.

He'll only end up hurting you.

How do you know he hasn't hurt me already?

How do you know that I'm not just as capable as him? I've seen him in pain, all by my hand, it's revenge at its sweetest and I love it.

I'm just as bad, but you refuse to believe it.

I like being hurt. I like feeling anything at all. It's addictive, but isn't that's what life is all about? Clinging onto things and refusing to let them go...

Why don't you get him help?

Nothing can save him now. And if he's going down, he was obviously going to take somebody with him.

Why not me?

You're changing

I'm not.

Can't you see what you're doing to yourself?

Of course I can, but it doesn't bother me, so why should it bother you?

When are you going to make this stop?

Never

VII. Revelations

We stole, hurt, threatened, striked fear in the hearts of strangers for many reasons.

But it all came down to addiction in the end. Love affairs, vices. Narcotics.

We liked the rush of holding a gun, our hands never shook, faces hardened. He could be so eloqeunt, fiercely manipulative. I loved to watch him, it was all so perfect and warped.

We liked to count the money, leafing through a green wad with swift fingers and greedy eyes. 10, 20, 30, 40, 50... 500.

We did it to feed our habits.

We drank as soon as we woke up. We walked down the street, with our jackets zipped up, we smoked just to keep us heated. Lips burning, mouth aching, tongue dry. But warm and relaxed. We could get incredibly tense.

But that wasn't enough.

In our den of iniquity, on the wrong side of the moon, where the stars were technicolour and acidic.

We'd shoot up, share a syringe, who fucking cares? Kiss our track marks, a rail of pollution.

Snort the powder, rub it on our gums, suck it off each others fingers, gold, white, you name it. We'd giggle and smile and make stupid jokes, laugh and scream, kiss and thrash madly, aggressive, a whirlwind and we'd always hold each other through the storm. Protecting ourselves from the comets, seeing ourselves in paraselenes. Wear the winking stars like rings on our fingers. Always intertwined.

Swallowed pills. Hit after hit. Who cares about spinal fluid when you feel fucking fantastic? When you're with your partner in crime

Apple of your eye

Other half

One true love.

Ecstasy is the right name for it. Because when it's manipulating your every nerve, all you want to do is be passionate. Go all night, scream as loud as you can, be touched and kissed and fucked over and over and over and over...

We did all of that together. With anybody else it wouldn't have been as fun.

He was a loner. Selfish. All he needed was himself and I was just a toy to play with, a convenience, somebody who he could easily dispose. But I wasn't going down without a fight. That's what he liked about me, because I could shout as loud as he could. Be as cruel, as cold, as filthy and punch him hard enough that I could break his nose. Which I did. Once.

But I had it all wrong.

One night, the elysian dawn rode it's chariot across the night and stripped the sky of his mischeivious stars.

And I was dying for a drink. Watching him smoke and I took a drag, he smiled. Kissed along my neck and ran his fingers through my hair, until I moaned.

Slowly, his eyes met mine, our tender colours embracing. I felt like I was going to cry, I bit my lip and turned away when his hand untangled itself from my curls and slid down to cup my face.

"Look at me"

So I did. I stared straight into his eyes and saw my bewildered expression stare back.

He ran his thumb across my lip, I trembled, gasped his name. And it hurt.

"I love you"

All I had ever wanted.

VIII. Absolution

Here's looking at you, kid.

Maybe not. I always make jokes when I'm uncomfortable. It never worked on you though, you just laughed anyway. That cruel, wicked laugh that made heat quiver throughout my core.

You may laugh now, red eyes staring up at me as you're shaking hands with your heroes, but

I always thought that we-

We would burn out together.

But as always, you went ahead of me, selfish, competitive. And I think you thought it would get to me, right?

Correct. I mean, first of all, I laughed. They said those words

Nothing more we can-

I'm sorry, but-

Not. Coming back.

And I cackled, hysterical, they gave me a sedative to calm me down. But I kept thinking, that's not going to bring him back is it? So naturally, I asked for another.

Then I went home. To your house. Sat in your room. Lay on your bed and wept.

Smelt your pillow.

Went into your wardrobe and wrapped myself in your clothes. I wanted you to touch me. Run your finger down my spine and make me grind my teeth, breathe invisble love onto the back of my neck, then I'd grab your hand and guide it to my waist and our fingers would intertwine then. I'd never let go and you wouldn't care.

You'd say "You should've seen the look on your face"

And I'd smile and agree. To bring you back I'd agree with you on everything for the rest of my life. Do anything so I can spend every waking minute with you.

I hate you for making me feel like this, you bastard.

I took your gun and it felt heavy and smooth in my hand, still warm and it felt like you were showing me how to fire it all over again. Shooting empty beer bottles. One by one. Now, in the dark, I closed my eyes, pressed it to my temple and imagined.

I didn't go through with it. Pussy. Instead, I hung the gun out of the window and shot a dog. It made tears spring my eyes, because killing things just reminds me of you.

Remember we said how one day, when we felt like we couldn't take it anymore, we'd drive up to Kenosha pass, when it's really snowy, a blizzard, and we'd shoot each other. But obviously one of us would have to have killed ourselves. Never thought it would be you.

What did that guy say? "It's better to burn out, than to fade away"

So now I'm terrified, that it will happen to me. That you have ended with a bang, a flourish, a beautiful display of addiction and passion and I'll just wither away lovelessly, unimportant, washed up.

I'm too old now. Though I'm barely in my twenties.

I'm getting the fuck out of here. People ask me about you and I don't want to say anything, why can't they leave us alone?

I'm so lost, hopeless, stuck and I fucking hate

Hate

Hate

HATE YOU

Who am I fucking kidding? I love you and that's all there is now. The fact that what we had was real and now it's all so horrific.

I wouldn't change you for the world.

Perfection.

I see you sometimes, but it's breif, you're always kissing my scars. All inflicted by you, they don't hurt anymore.

I whimper breathlessly "I forgive you"

And you murmur back "There's nothing to forgive"

When the sun splashes over the stone that is marred with your name, a scar that resembles mine, on the roof of my pumping, bleeding heart, I believe that.

So long, Demon boy.