#mod beastie

Better the devil you know - and summoned - than the one that calls itself a parent.

You blamed it on the fairy dust.

Surely that was the reason you were seeing an actual faerie now.

I found warmth in your back pockets. Your kisses taste like ash and graveyards; trading smoke between barely parted lips, shotgunning to get a taste of what death feels like. Your touch is poison and leaves me with nightmares, but nothing is more cathartic than to die by your hand night after night.

I’m pretty sure I’ve never met a siren before, but hearing your haunting voice over wailing guitars… I’d surrender myself to the depths just to hear that sound forever more.

You walk on eggshells around me, expecting me to cut you down at a moment’s notice. I can see the trembling in your fingertips and the hesitation in your speech. It’s cruel to make you wait and suffer. 

But I never claimed to be kind.