February 7th, 2005

I've been cursed.

Faux-Hawk Down.

Honey, this is gonna happen every time. You can style your hair into that beautiful faux-hawk and say every word exactly the right way. You can pull me into you and overwhelm me with all the passion you have the capacity to withstand. You can love me or you can hate me, but the same thing is gonna happen every time.

I'm gonna kiss you back. I'm gonna move every curve of my body to conform like a puzzle piece against yours, and I'm gonna let you have your many moments of fame with my bare skin. I'm gonna run my fingers through that faux-hawk until it's nothing but a mass of once-styled and grossly disheveled hair on top of your head; it's a habit. I'm gonna breathe as you reciprocate all this attraction and heighten your wonder of my obviously twisted mind. It's alright, I won't stop you until you stop yourself. Because I'm gonna open my eyes for nano-seconds at a time and see you dive in for my lips again, your tongue barely escaping your mouth before you meet mine again. I'm gonna see that faux-hawk destroyed and dismembered as a result of my aggression, and suddenly you'll be nothing to me.

This is gonna happen every time. I'm gonna want you until I'm ready to explode, and then I'm gonna get you. I'm gonna get you and then at the second you give me the victory our rolls will reverse and I'll be the one that's untouchable. We're gonna crawl into these bizarre situations and I'll make my sneaky escape using nothing but my tongue. I'm gonna lose every last bit of attraction I ever harbored and I'll walk out like a villianess with no more room for infatuation in my cursed heart. And when the lights go on I'm gonna see you without that faux-hawk, stripped down so bare that I can unleash my shallow eyes and wonder why I ever wanted you in the first place.

I get myself into it every time, and I always know it'll happen again. I'm a cursed kamikaze and I'll never miss my target until that beautiful hawk of yours is so unbreakable that it can't be touched, let alone destroyed. I'm aiming for this next night of broken rules and awkward betrayals. I'm breaking that masterpiece of hair, and by the time enough gel has brought it back, I'll be gone. If only these attractions could stay with me, but through my aviator sunglasses I mark my target and get ready to fire. The faux-hawk is down.