Just trying to make it work
Trying to keep breathing
Feel something worthwhile
I want to ruin myself more than anything in the world.
I couldn’t tell you why. I don’t think anymore. I don’t speak anymore, except to say, “Yes, please, more.”
I get Nirvana. Funny: a teenager who likes Nirvana. But I get it. I feel it. I think I’m happy but maybe I’m just dumb. I wonder if I’ve sobered up yet. I fuckin hope not. I feel like an alien. Like an animal. Buried under the influence. My brain soaking up all the chemicals. I want to do too much. I want it to be too much. I want trouble. I want to hurt; not in any profound way. I want to literally hurt. I want to be tied and whipped and beaten. I want to whimper and cry and scream at the top of my lungs and not worry if anyone will hear me. I want you to like it. I want you to do it because it pleases you. Intense. Mind-numbingly intense. Ruin my body. Ruin my mind. Of my own volition, every moment. Just indulge me. I want you as fevered and wild-eyed as myself. I want to delve into a frenzy with you, a world of our own. Forget who I am. Forget everything. Pure, physical, animal bliss. Adrenaline and other bodily fluids.
I’m sorry I’m not more sensible. I have trouble knowing where the lines are. I have trouble remembering what’s important. That’s why I need you.