Contortion of a Sociopath

I could arrange you perfectly in naive sequences
Like a helix I unravelled with a first encounter
I wonder if you ever think about combustion like I do
Cremating into yourself and forming a new complication
You’re the pebble-stringed choker I've put aside for strangulation
When the clouds are no longer able to asphyxiate
Your guarantee of destruction is the clasp around my ribs
That sever until I split evenly down the middle
A double negative walking around in a dress she’d like to be fucked in
Even if she was incomplete and dreamt of massacres
The time will come even if it doesn't drip the way you want it
When the walls will splinter apart and retain all you've elapsed
Like a corpse that couldn't get rid of the memory of its executioner.