Domestic violence speaks up the language of urban love.
Bruises, broken knuckles and open wounds
Out in the open to represent our emotions:
I love you.
You are mine.
You can never leave me.
Love hurts, now doesn't it?
Loose teeth, cracked smiles, messed up apartments
All these acts of insanity and violence to tell you
How much I appreciate you.
How much I care.
Your broken ribs are the single most beautiful sight my sore eyes have ever seen
I touch it and feel it move under your skin.
I feel exhilarated.
I feel love.
My kind of love.
You can never understand the darkness I feel inside
All the self-loathing, self-hatred.
It's like a pack of hyeenas
Waiting for their chance to rip me apart
And to reveal my true, inner-most self to you
It's like jackals waiting for their turn
After the lions have finished...

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