The sweet pitched tone of my blackened mood
is aimed and ready to fire at your brooding,
weakened soul, fragility shows the weakness.
The simplicity with which I could destroy
and crush offhand your sense of self.
I could squeeze the un-ripened heart
that you portray as dark and unfathomable,
with one swift blow of my mouth.
Putty in my mind,
I could mould you into something else,
make you bend to my will with painful infliction.
Your mind stinging from the tightly held belief
that you are not what you thought.
Skin prickling as it yearns for my hand
to soothe the aching rash of longing
that you have for me.
I'll pull the ripcord on a spinning top
and send your mind into free-fall,
be amused by your assumed depths
of feelings and you will know
that you had never really existed until now.
I'll put a thousand pinpricks in your ego,
till its blackness is diffused,
you'll relinquish the power you thought you held
and hand it to me willingly.
The aloofness that you hold dear will melt
like an icicle that finds itself still around at noon,
with a slow drip drip drip to nothingness.
Your facade will thin to a veneer
of transparency and I will see you,
I will see you,
as you fall into the deep.