Out of Time

I’m out of time again, that pervasive sense that I have lost the luxury of being able to be afraid.

Fear is a waste of time, a waste of moment, a wasted opportunity, and there are far too few of those.

I should tell you.

What I have is now, freezing in my skin, curled up beside your warmth. What I have is now, and now is laced with brazen spice. I only regret what I never did, never said, never lived. I have never regretted the moments when words pushed their way through my lips against your kiss.

My skin is craving the taste of new sensation. Put a needle through my skin so I can know the way the metal tastes against my teeth. Why not? It hurts, but not unbearably. Fuck me in the ass; we’ll figure out together how to make it work. Let me push and pull against the boundaries of your skin, feral eyes and incoherent growls a new language that lives in our blood.

Let me taste your blood, the sweet, metallic binge against my lips. Why not? I’d rather my throat close around the length of your cock than taste the acrid smoke of a burning world.

We are out of time, out of the glorious luxury of time to be afraid. We have now, right now, to taste the sweet temptation of skin against skin, the honeyed taste of desperation. What is there to fear anymore?

I should tell you.

Grab a knife, a hook, a coil of rope. Wreck my thighs with the ferocity of your teeth; plunge deep into the core of me and taste the ichor of my tears, the breathless whimper of a plea. Open wide and look at me with those eyes. Say please.

Say yes. Tell me to hold still, grab my wrist to guide my hands, hold my throat until I choke. I have nothing left to fear, not here, not in these moments when everything has burned to ash and I am scouring the soot from my eyes. In a world built of lies and broken dreams, let’s hide, for just a moment, and in darkness, find freedom.

Here. Here is what we have, where we are, what we breathe. Take a picture for memory. I have no shame here, now. This is a summer rampage in the heart of winter, and I am a bonfire burning recklessly against the textiles of your bedsheets. What have we to lose but fear, and more fear? I cannot waste time on niceties and pleasantries. We have been dying, are dying, taste the rotten flesh with every breath and now, right now, I need to live to say I did when everything is laid to waste and we hold onto memories like anchors to sanity.

Let me breathe the stale and used up oxygen from your lungs that leaves me breathless and gasping. Let me drink you in like sustenance- not the only, not the all, not the everything, but the now, the this, the you that stands in front of me, let me drink you in. I can taste you on my tongue and you burn like spice I cannot escape by hiding my face.

I should tell you, you are ferociously, breathtakingly beautiful when you have nothing left to fear, and nothing left to lose.