Moon Etched Bookends

After everything, all the torment and heartache, why would I allow further destruction... am I addicted to the chaos or merely longing for a bookend? Something to fuel the fires of passion, love, hate, isolation, cruelty and animalism... or something to lean on holding the volumes of this life from crumbling asunder. The last encounter inspired much thought and growth but charred my innocence and sensibility... the wounds are fresh and the void is limitless. These walls, my womb of plaster and wisps, are my salvation... the very foundation trembles at your approach. The smile that hides those hollow eyes is beaming through the cracks... tempting me with explanations of yesterday and the consumption that followed. Will you prepare to feast once more, knowing I have little to nothing left to suckle upon... or must you fatten the lamb before the slaughter? It is necessary... life feeds upon life and no key can keeping you from finding me. My friends, my bookends, are long forgotten... making me your desired prey. How I wish I could erase the day I found you laying there, laying in wait... had I not reached for something to save me from drowning in the darkness, your venomous charms would have been unfruitful. I close my eyes, as the moments come close to this reunion, knowing the inevitable... you are returning and I am powerless to stop you. I must... I musn't. Whether it's ruin you will rain down upon me or solace, I crave the affirmation that I am alive... if even for but a brief moment, at any cost. I need to feel. I need to destroy. I need... this.