Wasted skin of addict's whore. Medication.. given more. Strangulation. Lick the floor. Is this what you're looking for? Suffocation's what you want. Just another dirty cunt. Another bitch with rug-burned knees, willed to tease and drenched in sleaze, filled with fluid and disease, but midnight killed uncertainties.
And is it lust that makes you ill? Crush me like I crush these pills. Drain the blood to watch it spill upon the flesh you crave until desire finds another grave, another cave, a junkie's slave. But at the end of every rave, souls are too infected to be saved. Injected with the cruelest drug, selected for the hole you dug... and disconnected as expected, purity has been neglected.
Maybe I should go to hell, burn inside a flaming cell, love the ashy fucking smell, and maybe then I'd wish you well. But not just yet and not tonight. Your chemicals will not ignite a spirit that was never there. You won't get tangled in my hair, and never again will I bite through the dingy clothes you wear. It's so easy, but I don't care. I'm wrapped in things you can't repair. Spite's insanity compares to nothing vanity prepares you for.
And maybe I'm a fucking whore, a creep, a cheap price to adore, but you were never worth much more. Fascination loved the gore, desperation was décor, aberration could implore, and infatuation won the war. But that was before annihilation. I have since lost dedication, destroying violent correlation.
So swallow your heartless invitation.