I Won't Break Eye-Contact When I Tell You "I Wanna Pin You To The Bed".

If I want you, you'll know about it.

Dearest Abominations, I’m all about spewing out wild opinions into the internet hellscape for all to see, but the spiciest content is going behind the paywall. So, buy a girl a drink first and remember, lovers… I will ALWAYS give you a taste.

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I want to pin you down.

I want to dig my fingers into your flesh.

I want to take fistfuls of your hair into my hands as our bodies collide.

The neighbours will be wondering if this old house is about to shatter with a thunderous bang from our thunderous banging.

I didn’t always have the ability to tell someone “I wanna fuck your brains out.” There was a time when the most I’d ever manage was, “hey”, or if I’d fallen deeply, madly, unrelentingly in love with you I might’ve been able to mumble out a modest “I like hanging out with you.”

My god, I’m still haunted by it.

Those teenage years of quiet yearning are a gothic landscape that still lives within me. A blasted heath, a tundra littered with ruined towers and overgrown battlefields. The burgeoning confidence of those towers left to crumble, unfinished, unexpressed, unrealised. Those battlefields are empty save for tattered banners and broken spears bearing the cheap crests and tired mottos like “Hey baby, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” and “Are you feeling out of breath? Cause you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

Growing up, this was all I knew. Mournful looks, passive loneliness and cheap tactics.

I was the sad soft-boy next door. All my unrequited want would whistle through the ramparts, howl through the masonry of shattered courage to swirl around the debris strewn at the foot of the parapet. Thank fuck I don’t live in that place anymore. I learned how to leave it behind. I learned how to look someone dead in the eye and tell them…

“I wanna throw you around your bedroom while I fuck you sensless.”