He’s like black lightning, strong and powerful, frightening in his beauty. An electric outburst that hits me every time I touch his skin, burns my fingertips, in a way that’s become quite addicting. He taste like chocolate and feels like velvet, and I only say this because I love him so much. Clichés have a way of taking over my mind when I feel like this. It makes me think in song-lyrics and dress like a fairytale. It’s like a beautiful disaster. Like a thunderstorm. The light and the clashes and the booms and noises and dark clouds are so fucking beautiful, but so very dangerous at the same time.

Sometime, along the way, I fell hopelessly in love with him, before I could stop myself.

And somewhere along the way, so did he. 

Everything

Is

Perfect

Please don't fall apart.

Nobody notices that I'm right back where I was 7 years ago, full of self-hatred and loathing of my own personality. I'm crumbling, 'cause I can't seem to do anything but hurt the ones closest to me, and the only person I need right now is in another country, and I'm not even sure I'm going to see him, 'cause it almost feels as if he's forgotten about me. So fuck all, fuck me, and fuck my life.
This isn't pretty at all, and I loath it, but it's my blog and I need a fucking breathing space once in a while.

Love, Sex, Laughing...

..I crave all of those, I'm never satisfied, I'm addicted, like I'm addicted to music, hugs, tea and disaster. I want my white virgin-dress stained by coffee-stains, your coffee-stains. I want to smell your sweat on my skin and have the taste of sex in my mouth. I'm a submissive whore, but only if you let the beast out. Only if you hold the key. Treat me like a queen, and I will fulfill all your filthy fantasies.

I'm just gonna do one more fuck up, and that will be the end of it. The end of it all, one more little fuck-up, nothing big, nothing small, just something, something worth remembering. Come on baby, don't act like it's a surprise, I'm a train-wreck and I always has been, you know that, it's why you love me, because I'm just something you pick up and play with, I'm too weak to tell you not too. I'm too weak to tell you to fuck off, or be gentle, or be better, or don't hate me, or anything and everything. Baby please, you know all this, I'm not saying anything new, I'm not screaming anything you haven't heard before, I'm just crying and moaning and whispering all my weaknesses like I always do when you demand me like this. When you pierce me, when you penetrate my soul with your anger. You've always hated me, you've always been poison running through my veins. Or maybe I'm the poison one, because you can't leave me be either. You're like cocaine, you know that? You just numb me completely, I can't feel a fucking thing whenever this happens, nothing. Numbness is happiness, isn't that what you always say? Oh fuck this, fuck it all, or should I fuck her? Is that what you want? 'Cause you know I'll do it, as much as I hate to admit it, I'd do anything you say, anything. 

I'm just gonna make one more fuck-up, ok, just one more, and then all of this will be over. Just one more.

I'm an addict.

Addictions.

They tend to find me without even trying.

I become addicted very easily, I become addicted to a lot of different things.

It can be music, it can be the bass, it can be the sound of someones voice, crawling beneath my skin. It can be a smell, the smell of you, the smell of him, the smell of sunshine or love or sex. It can be a sound, of a laugh, a giggle, a moan. I could be addicted to the softness of his lips, or the way his abs feel like when I let my hand slide over it. I could be addicted to the smooth skin just beneath his chin, or I could be addicted to the warmth of his embrace. I could be addicted to him, to his kisses, to his thrusts, to his laugh, his voice, his smell, his being, his mind, his words. 

I can get addicted to anything and everything. It's not even hard.

All in all, I'm an addict.

My filthy slutty boy

There you stand, holding her hand. You aren't smiling like you did to me.. Why aren't you smiling? Why doesn't your eyes glow when you look at her face? Is she just a disappointment? Or a beautiful disaster? Isn't she lovely? Isn't she what you had hoped for?

I want to show up on your door-step. I want to knock on your door, and see you standing in it. I want you to fuck me senseless, even though she was waiting for you, dinner and a movie. I want to be the dirty, little secret that you use to escape her disappointment. I want to make you my slave again, 'cause that was all you ever really were.You were good sex. Great sex, actually. Hot, amazing, strong and rough. But you never really meant anymore than that.. Than filthy sex. And I want it back, I do, and how funny wouldn't it be to have her sitting alone, waiting for you, while we fuck in your kitchen, and then you go home to her, missing me like hell.


But I won't do a thing, because that's what being a good girl means