Work Text:
He’s begging for it
His face gives into my fistful violations. There's a wet smack and I can smell the iron on him. He wants it bad and I love it.
“Where did you go psycho boy?”
“I wanted to destroy something beautiful”
Angels are beautiful graceful things. But I'm a disaster artist. I make things beautiful like a car crash is beautiful. I make things wonderful like the thud of my cheek against sharp knuckles. I make things so great like premeditated murder
Art is like killing a man, messy and vile like abstract paintings.
I am jack's creativity
Scribbled art pieces like I’m a fucking first grader who’s favorite color is red. His face gives and caves to the Indents of my touch. All I hear are replays in perfect verbatim. Memories of his words like burn holes in my skin.
“I don’t wanna die without a couple scars…” Tyler tells me before the punch.
He’ll remember me, that platinum blonde boy. Too pretty for fight club. I had to make him ugly. His face was just screaming for it. So now angels lay limp and I can’t stop and I won’t stop cause I just love it too much. Bathing in the thrall of it all. I’ll give him the scars he needs
Had I slept? Or Was I ever awake?
“You aren’t your fucking khakis your aren’t special”
“The same decaying matter as everyone else “
Tyler stands at my bed. He whispers his words
Planting seeds in my head while he rapes my inner child. Desecrating my being but Tyler pets my hair with the unfamiliar warmth of a father.
“Feel better champ”
He chuckles knowing even his words are out of character. Yet I can’t enjoy even a semblance of pure untainted affection cause I’m always waiting for another hit. Another fix of what Tyler thinks I need. He says he can see it in my eyes sometimes. See me begging and pleading before I even open my mouth. Tyler is my heroin
I love the way Tyler scars me. He’s the only one with the balls to end me, to ruin me. My own affliction isn’t enough. I’m not gonna slit my wrist like some poor little school girl. I just need his rough hands and tobacco breath down my neck
I need bruises
I want blood
I think back a lot especially in times like this, way too beat from fight club to even stand without some help. Bedridden looking at the world through sunken eyes if I could even pry them open that is. Sometimes they’re swollen shut and I think about Marla in the dark . Maybe I liked Marla with her breast lump of cancer and raggedy thrift store dresses. But She’s too busy dying. She’s a rotting corpse laying on the slab waiting for a good fuck. She won’t hurt me like Tyler. I’m trying to live. But lately I’m just sick, my ribs hurt. Broken and battered. Shattered and splattered. I think about my brains on cool tile
Tyler is my exit
“I know you better than I know myself “
“You are a part of me just as much as I am apart of you”
“I know you better than anyone else”
“I’m everything you want to be”
Tyler breathes me deep like a cigarette. Holding till it burns and exhales me like a last breath
“I am free in all the ways you are not”
I want Tyler to free me. I need him to hate me
Decimate me
“It isn’t until you’ve lost everything that you can do anything” Tyler points a gun at my head. I look him in the eyes. I wait for the shot. He towers above me god-like. Lean black and blue muscle, beautiful busted lips and all.
I like to think I’m Tyler’s Adam. He takes my rib. He makes what he wants. He’ll keep me in paradise as long as I don’t question.
I’m waiting for the shot. I can feel his eyes on me boring holes into my being. Times like these, I feel every broken bone, I feel every split lip and it reminds me of life. If I learned anything from Tyler it’s that living is different from existing. I existed for so long. My existence was similar to that of a dead man. Merely walking as the maggots consume this flesh of the void that I’ve become. That was until Tyler came to pick the skin eaters out of my pores and teach me how to feel alive. But what I didn’t entirely understand was that these nihilistic waters Tyler swims in also teach you how to die. I’m drowning in them now. Murky blurry waters. It’s the duality of man. Tyler makes me alive only to kill me. I wait for the shot. Take the fucking shot Tyler.
I am jack's blue balls
Tyler loves to tease. I’m preparing for my hibernation. I remember Marla’s death rattle. She’s too busy trying to die. She fucks death like the slut she is. But it’s always a one night stand. She likes to bite more than she can chew because taking as many tabs of Xanax she can stomach is easier than living with herself. But that’s not so true when death kisses back with a sweet I love you on its lips making Marla run for the hills into my arms hoping to keep her awake.
My mind keeps wandering. Pacing in dizzying circles. I don’t like my soul. I’m prepping my vein for Tyler. Raping the tourniquet. As pathetic as it is Sometimes I hope for the bubbles in the syringe. I want my blood to burn. I need a new kind of pain. suffer and rot
Prepare to Evacuate soul in
3…
2…
1…
Tyler is my exit. When you have a gun in your mouth you can only speak in vowels. Tyler is beautiful like a fire. Tyler drags the gun from my mouth using it to toy with my bottom lip. I gulp down a sick slick concoction of saliva bile and blood. Sighing before I speak.
“Sometimes i feel like I’m dying forever”
“Oh shut the fuck up” Tyler says pressing the chrome to my skull.
“ we’re all dying Your dying, I’m dying, Marla’s fucking dying”
“Death isn’t what it use to be”
“ Death is boring”
“ Death isn’t for You, or for me ”
He pulls the gun away pushing my head with his hand before he leaves pacing between the window then back. My head sways as my body rocks back. I can hardly keep my eyes open blinking slowly as my head swims languidly.
“I need it Tyler”. What exactly it is that I need I’m not sure but words like please and need are the easiest to slur at the moment between my bloodied teeth. I grapple on to him
I don’t know which way is up
With insomnia everything's a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy…..
I’m a broken fucking record
I am jack's horrible balance. I tumbled and stumble like a drunk monkey. You know on the Caribbean islands there’s alcoholic monkeys blissfully tripping along the resorts stealing drinks from rich snobs that got enough money from all the exploitation they do to be treated like kings
I wanna be a drunken monkey. Not a care in the world. Ignorance is bliss. But I ate the apple from the tree. I guess I wasn’t Adam after all. Now I can see I miss being blind and happy. If I just listened I’d still be in paradise. I feel an explosion of prickly stings along my cheek. Like pins and needles on fire.He knows when I’m drifting away into my mind. He smacks me cause I’m bad at paying attention with all this Cotton in my brain. But it does the job startling me into a more wakeful state. As my head dares to fall back again Tyler grips at my face it hurts like hell. He digs his nails into my skin pushing down on the plump bruise circling the rim of my eye. Fuck fuck fuck
“I-I thought you…hmm- had the bballs” I speak with a bitter tongue all snake like between harsh gasps as I thrash in his grasp.
Tyler tugs on my chin pulling me forward
He takes a drag off his cigarette that I don’t remember him lighting
I am Jack's raging nicotine addiction
I am jack's desperation
I think this is what Tyler means when he sees it in my eyes. I swear he knows what I want before I ask. With each word Tyler huffs another cloud of smoke over my face
“Death isn’t for us”
“ You haven’t even lived yet psycho boy yet all you wanna do is die it’s pathetic ”
“I know what’s best for you” he whispers in a tone that’s almost sweet if it weren’t for that mocking smirk he wears with pride
“you’ll always know that no matter what it is no matter how much you don’t want it, I will carry you kicking and screaming and you’ll thank me”
He rubs circles over his kiss forever scared into the dip of the back of my hand
“We are god's unwanted children and I love you”
“We are the scum”
“No one will love you the way I do”
“Because I condone you”
“You’ll never have anything else like this”
Tyler is my exit
Tyler presses his lips to mine
My bones have grown stiff with time
Where’s my mind