lust

Why being a lover feels like destroying yourself sometimes

Screen shot: Ma Nuit Chez Maud, Éric Rohmer

 

I call it the eighth deadly sin :

not paying attention to your girlfriend/boyfriend anymore.

Redemption never comes, in fact

God thought about a punishment for that and created

the third human, besides Adam and Eve.

It’s called a lover.

It’s paradoxically, contradicting the Decalogue,

but weird are God’s ways.

Aren’t them?

A lover is a sinner itself but he’s never punished

directly.

His punishment comes from within,

like an auto-destruction timer.

Once you engage in your mission,

the clock starts.

 

 

I know he’s way dumber than me

and I’m way more creative than him.

He never gives you your freedom,

makes sex to you like a plank,

not grabbing your hair, not biting your

neck, not kissing every part of your body.

Actually, Eve, he only lifts the leave
which covers your Madonna lily.

I think you loved at me the part that

I only loved flesh.

I am the supreme carnivorous.

 

 

I can’t stand the fact that you two
only have pity sex.

I hate pity.

In my acception, this feeling is insulting me.
I am bloodthirsty, I want your teeth deep down
in my chest, biting every piece of
sacramental feeling.

The last time you came to my place,

I was afraid for the first time in my life.
I was afraid that I was good for you,
that I made you happy beyond
flesh and blood.

 

 

Babe, don’t you want to follow
a natural pattern?

The one of the praying mantis.

Can you, please, rip my head off

my shoulders?

This way, I won’t be able to

overthink everything.
You can use my body in all the ways
possible.
I’m killing myself little by little with

every photo with you two that I see

and believe me :

there are a lot of them!

I know you can’t leave him,

I just can’t get used to it.

There’s a good thing, nevertheless:

we will all meet in hell.

 

—

Submitted to ArtParasites by Ionuț Cristache

 

 

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