He stays up all night. I wonder what he's doing, but I wonder what he's thinking more than anything. He's always busy he says, but always finds time to talk to people. I didn't know what to think when he got angry at me. He can be such an asshole but he's so insane. So fucked up in the head. So wrong. And yet to me…so right…in a very twisted sort of way.
I see him with his widened eyes. Dilated pupils or constricted ones like pinheads. Always more than out there. Always bathing in his own world of Chaos. His own world of desecration, madness, and utter destruction. So many personalities. So many sides. So many viewpoints. He's a walking paradox and I love it.
I am by no means in love with him, however. I am in love with his madness though. The madness of anyone like him. Funny that all this proves, as the Cheshire Cat said, "As you can see, I'm not all there myself." My dark and twisted fantasies are proof of that.
Every time he laughs it's like the world is one big joke. The world is his chessboard and he is the Chess Master. He orchestrates his life like a Chaos symphony and yet he has no control. He walks with paranoid eyes. Eyes aware and unaware. Eyes filled with rage and eyes filled with depression. Eyes filled with delight…dark delight, and eyes filled with defeat. A worn and rugged man who talked about being old when he really is just as youthful as I. Now I think I understand what he means.
And then I realized that his madness turns me on. Someone so completely disconnected from the world that has done just about every drug in the book and lived exactly how he wanted to his whole life. His insanity…his addictions…I want to fuck it all.
I want him to grab me by the hair and look at me with wide, intense eyes. Rage filled eyes. Eyes that say he wants to kill me. Or at least eyes that demand me be at his disposal.