From my soiled tongue.

Without enhancements I inquire a deeper threat.

Perhaps to you without intent of ones massive destruction, you purge.
Every bit of immortality from me you devour as you decompose loves lost expressions, loves lost definition, and lasting momentum of ones lost grace.

I not only envy the fact that you can freely compress innocence, but that with pride and arrogance leaves me without the ability to inhale.

Give me back my breath.

And when I stop spinning, let go gracefully and watch me inherit your ability to contend.

Stop perspiring nervous angst. Admire the cost in which you destroyed the last chemical inside of your heart that could make you sizzle.

I am your pawn.

Give me back your breath for then I will not hesitate to take away every bit of self indulgence that you've manifested.

I am naked.

Exposed.

Vulnerable.

And on the floor.

The tiles are cold and are left seemingly unstable.

My memories play out like foreign shadows that I once witnessed as schemes, portrayals, and how intense sanctuary could of been.

From my pursed lips I taste the hesitation of steam that wreaks from my soiled tongue.

Find me know dear Lord and watch me shed.

I spill before you a shade so intense that my lips mimic the intensity.