Laments of a Young Adult

By Gabriel-Vlad Crisu

Sometimes I feel as though my tongue only has value

When it brings you pleasure.

Not in the way I speak (For such is often superficial)

But in the way it does what you want it to,

The way it twirls at your command,

“Lap at me” and I do.

“Shut your mouth” and I do.

What am I to you?

I am your puppet, a plaything

You get to mould into whatever shape you wish.

You want me to contort, to change my very self

So that it fits your narrative.

A victim to your murder,

A lover in your games.

I often wonder if this is what I’m meant to be,

Just your dog, Listening to your commands,

Having no control of my autonomy.

How I’d rage against your chains,

Break the collar of lies you use to keep me caged,

But deceit is so sweet from your lips,

And I taste it in every kiss and feel myself

Dropping further into your captivity.

What are you to me?

Are you my love? Are you my hate?

I want to carve you out of my skin,

Let the blood flow and release all of your venom,

That sweet, sweet venom

Which I’ve let infest me.

I want it to pour out like whiskey in a glass,

And burn my throat on the way out.

I know there could be so much more for me,

A life to look forward to, dreams to achieve,

But I realise that it goes against my nature to accept your flaws,

Therefore, I always let you take everything out on me,

I’ll be your cocaine. Abuse me. Feel better because of me.

Let me be your overdose. Let it end. Let me go

By Gabriel-Vlad Crisu