Amity

What’s the difference?
Unpredictable and dangerous
Are conflated, amalgamated
With afraid.
And what’s the difference?
This existence and reality
Are both verging upon merging
With a dream.

And where do devils end and gods begin,
Where do you draw the line
When both are thirsty, craving for blood sacrifice?

Bite me, I must be dreaming,
Tear my flesh clean off the bone.
Why is it so relieving
To melt in mouths like honeycomb?
Bite me, ‘cause I’m still reeling,
Ground me with your sharp embrace.
How are you so deceiving,
That your hands round my neck still feel like home?

Now, what’s the difference
Between hedonists and narcissists?
Both chase pleasure, every measure
For self-gain.
And what’s the difference
Animalistic and an animal?
Praise the concept, instinct a godsend
Til it breathes.

And where do devils end and gods begin,
Where do you draw the line
When both are thirsty, craving for blood sacrifice?

Bite me, I must be dreaming,
Tear my flesh clean off the bone.
Why is it so relieving
To melt in mouths like honeycomb?
Bite me, ‘cause I’m still reeling,
Ground me with your sharp embrace.
How are you so deceiving,
That your hands round my neck still feel like home?
Still feel like home, still feel like-

Jaws around my brain,
Must be why I’m still yours, you’ve staked your claim.
Left marks in my skull, left scars in my heart,
Under kinder gaze, I fall apart.

Bite me, I must be dreaming,
Teeth gently graze my soul.
Why is it so revealing
To not be under your control?
Bite me, ‘cause I still need it,
Craving the sting and pain.
Why am I so uneasy
When in these gentler arms I feel at home?
I feel at home, I feel at home, I feel at home, I feel at home, I feel at home.

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I am used to being loved oh so fiercely
It leaves bruises to bloom on my skin.
I am used to being loved without mercy,
So forgive me for breaking when you walked in.

And in the spaces between conversations,
Our words are lost, and I am found in their place.
Isn’t it strange that I’m afraid?

I am used to being used as a punchbag,
For catharsis, a means to an end.
I am used to being used as a fallback,
So forgive my distrust of your good intent.

And in the spaces between conversations,
Our words are lost, and I am found in their place.
Isn’t it strange that I’m afraid?

I’ve spent so long being misunderstood
That you tell me I’m good,
And I turn away.
I’ve spent so long being battered and hurt that
When you tell me I’m worth it,
There’s an aftertaste.
‘Cause you treat me like a person and I’m not sure I’m deserving,
Still I wonder if I can be saved.
But I am used to being hated,
And for years I have wasted away,
Smeared with the ashes of the mess that they made
Of my brain.

And in the spaces between conversations,
Our words are lost, and I am found in their place.
Isn’t it strange that I’m afraid
To be known? To be known? To be known?

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