this is the time where it'd be appropriate to issue you a warning.

where it'd be wise to tell you about the dangerous curves ahead, slippery with ice and sweat, slick with catastrophe just waiting to happen. you see, i am no genteel lover. i do not usher in honeyed words and press lily-lips against the tender slope of your neck. i do not hold your hand and lead you through rose gardens, whisper poetry in murmured tones. i simply cannot be slow and timid, doe-eyes and flushed cheeks, fluttering bird-hands floating through the fog-atmosphere until we hit the bed of satin and lace.

don't expect it of me.

instead, wait for racers to start their engines. wait to hear the engines growl and spitting under the hood, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, nails biting sharply into your shoulder-blades as tires peel out. expect for the ground to drop from underneath you and cotton to be ripped in two, poetry being hissed between swollen mouths. expect for it to be saltwater-promises against open wounds, over-bright eyes and tangled limbs until we crash through the concrete barriers.

wait for the skies to open and the heavens to come crashing down, steam building between us and the pressure so intense you fear our ribs might crack just to release the tension. wait until we're breathless and our hearts are thundering over the greater pacific, until the sky is cowering from the detonations sparking under our ruthless fingertips. expect blood and pain and cries tearing from our overexerted lungs. expect your skin to stretch and pull and slip against granite and slicked-over flesh.

expect disaster.

don't sit and wait for rose petals, because we'll be tumbling through the thorns. we'll be bloody and torn and exhilarated, pulling back our secrets until we're rubbed raw and vulnerable. watch as i grab your hand and pull us into the undertow, until we're choking on seawater and coughing and reaching through the twisting currents to anchor our mouths. watch as i throw us into the flame, until we're licked clean with heat and aflame with desire, our bones igniting with enough passion to burn down the city.

so, be careful, be sure to watch your step if you're thinking about falling for me. there is no safety net, no trampoline floor to cushion you when you collide. there's just pins and needles, blazing infernos and sinkholes deep enough to drown in. there's nothing but the promise of heartache and heartburn and heart explosions, the promise of excess, the promise of pulled muscles and split lips and shredded shirts, the promise of steamed windows and broken mirrors and smashed hearts.

there's nothing here but calamity.
nothing here but the inevitable.