Fear of the Revelation

Why does my heart race whenever you are near?
It’s fear.
Cold and implacable
A clawed hand wraps around my heart and squeezes with all the restraint of an overexcited dog on a chew toy.

Crush me.

It’s easy to mistake fear for love.
Butterflies in the stomach and heat in the face.
But they both sing the same song.

Unworthy.
Keep your mouth shut.
Run.
Hide.
Lie.

Do all you can to obscure.
Drop smoke bombs like a ninja on his first day of ninja school.
Misdirect like a con man desperately trying not to get beaten by the sucker whose wallet he just lifted.

Lie with me.

He drinks through another night of broken promises and lost loves.
Regrets that taste sweeter than lemon drops and the sour powder at the bottom of candy bags. The chemical burns from the sour powder pain him in a familiar way, one that he’s never quite escaped.
A prison that calls to him, a prison that is filled with tender hands and unforgiving lips, a prison with no wall, no bars and no guards, but still the prisoners stay.

Touch me.

Cultists swell and burn to an unheard beat, forceful and unyielding.
The skies are empty of all light.
The black descends to the earth, a curtain falling at the end of a play.

Welcome to the end.
I hope you were worthy enough to see it.
An apocalypse is a beautiful thing, the death of all.
Fear, Love, Hope all burn the same color.

The victims fall to the executioner, his wicked axe falling into an apathetic rhythm.
In their terminal moment, the victims wail in virulent ecstasy.
Listen to fear flee down the gallows.
It fills you with a instinctual pleasure, a desire to hunt.
Listen as it whispers with succubus tones.

Die with me.