Treacle

It’s not my fault it’s the season.
I want to punch you and I want to love you.
Come to me, sugar monster.
Something about now, something about this has me teetering the ledge.
It’s not my fault its the cycle.
I want to kiss you and I want to hurt you.
Come to me, sweet death.
Something about your face, something about your neck has me on edge.
It’s not my fault its the hormones.
I want to fuck you and I want to squeeze you.
Something about your body, something about your form has me reeling.
Come to me, honey horror.
I want to choke you to death.
It’s not my fault it’s the season.
I want to squeeze you and I want to fuck you.
Something about your voice, something about your hair strangles every feeling.
Come to me, darling demon.
It’s not my fault its the cycle.
I want to hurt you and I want to kiss you.
Something about your presence, something about your smell kills me.
Come to me, confectionery crime.
It’s not me. It’s not me. I’m sorry.
I want to love you and I want to punch you so bad.
Something about your taste, something about your lips is always lying.
Still, Come. Come.

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