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Disclaimer- dont own. just borrowing. no profit made.







It tastes bitter; coffee brewed too long, a bit of soap caught on the tongue, aspirin chewed and rolled about on the tongue. It's all of those things at once, mixed with a good dose of bile and cheap alcohol, expensive drugs and cheap lays. They haven't made a mint strong enough to kill it, a chemical powerful enough to override it.
And I hate it.
Not used to it. Not at all. I am the flippant fuck, the casual sinner.
Yohji tastes of an innocence I don't think he knows he has.
And I feel guilty for trying my best to help the world smother it.
If it's gone, it can't hurt me.
It's the smile of a kid being handed the fucking world on a platter, it's the contentment of a good backrub, of nuzzling up against someone's neck and breathing in the perfect, musky smell of them. It's a bit of him that wants so much to make it all better.
It's in his eyes when he looks at me sometimes, that innocent desire to fix me, to make me better.
Innocence turns to ash in my mouth with its assumption that all evil can be taken care of, all hurting can be corrected.
It makes me hate him, sometimes. Makes me want to mark him up, inside and out, twist my darkness through him to snuff out that painful, impossible hope of his that someday I will roll over in bed and his being there, his arms around me, will make the difference.
Yohji tastes of innocence, I taste of guilt, and we are silent after we fuck.
He is polite enough to ignore the bitter sob.
And I hate him for it.