There is a beauty in your madness.
There is an allure to the way the sun
kisses your sweat-drenched Oreo-coloured skin.
There is grace in the way your skin peels off your
hard-knocked life knuckles.
There is a charm in the way your left eye shuts tight,
blind to not only your wrongs but the aching emptiness in my heart.
There is faith in your addiction.
There is trust in the fact that the seventh empty bottle
will wipe away your seven sins leaving only a genesis
for fresh mistakes.
There is a belief that the higher power you seek cannot
be found on your knees but only present at the strike of a match.
The hope you have that the needle will always find a vein is the
same hope I hold to be the only thing to give you relief.
There is devotion in your disgust.
There is concern for the designs you splatter on the meatsuit
canvas I wear, making sure they are for my eyes only.
There is loyalty in the poison that slithers out of your mouth
with my mind drinking it all whilst the rest sip on your sweetened-promises.
There is fondness in how my circle is much tighter than your
hands around my neck so that me, and myself and I is always You.
Your do as I say is my DNA.
For me to find beauty in you simply means that the madness shall
continue to reside in me.