by 
View my bio on Blurt.media: https://blurt.media/c/manuel78
-story made from lyrics made with Ai
The bleeding machine . . . makes me cwayzee . . .
She chases me with an over-sized hammer . Like cartoon chars across the lawn , a frantic glamour . The ground it trembles under her command . This twisted love I'll never understand .
Eventually she catches me and bites me ! Followed by a MUHHAAHAHAHA !
The world goes blurry , fading out of focus . A love this sharp , a deadly hocus pocus . She looks so deep , her eyes hold no disguise . A supernova burning in her eyes .
Then she hugs and cuddles me to death ! Followed by a MUHHAAHAHAHA !
And she looks deep into my eyes and says . " I love you , babe . . . " A whispered threat wrapped in a sweet embrace . The final smile upon my face .
You better say it back or I'll poke you ! ( Muhhaahahaha ! ) Cuddle me to death , yeah ! ( Say you love me ! ) MUHHAHAHAHA !
The world began with a sound . A haunting , childlike melody spun from a fragile music box . It twisted in the air , tinkling and wrong . Beneath it , a heartbeat , distorted and slow , a thick , wet pulse in the dark . Then , the drums . A slow , tribal build . It was the sound of a ritual in a place without gods . And a voice , raw and whispered , bled into the space between the notes . " The bleeding machine . . . makes me cwayzee . . . "
Her name was Elara , and she was my supernova . Our world was a shared house on the edge of a silent , sprawling lawn . To anyone else , it was a picturesque cottage . To me , it was the arena . The first time I understood the shape of our love was the day of the hammer . It was not a tool . It was a cartoonish monstrosity , oversized and impossibly heavy , yet she wielded it with the grace of a ballerina and the intent of a wrathful god .
She chased me with it across the lawn , a frantic glamour under the pitiless sun . My breath tore at my lungs . Her laughter was not cruel , but rapturous , a song of pure , unadulterated possession . The ground trembled under her command . Each footfall she made sent a shockwave through the earth , making the daisies shiver and the old oak trees groan . This twisted love I would never understand . It was a language written in tremors and adrenaline , a grammar of near-misses and breathless escapes .
And always , eventually , she caught me . There was no true escape , only the prolonging of the inevitable , the stretching of the exquisite tension . She would corner me by the old stone well , her chest heaving , her eyes alight with a cosmic fire . The hammer would drop , forgotten in the grass . Then she would lunge , not with violence , but with a terrifying affection . Her teeth would find the juncture of my neck and shoulder , not to break the skin , but to press , to claim . A sharp , possessive bite that sang through my nerves . And it was always followed by that sound . That victorious , unhinged , " MUHHAAHAHAHA ! " that echoed across the hills , a declaration to the universe that I was hers .
In the aftermath , the world would go blurry , fading out of focus . My legs would give way and I would sink into the cool grass , my head spinning . A love this sharp was a deadly hocus pocus . It was a magic trick where the saw really cut , where the box truly crushed . And she would kneel beside me , the fury gone , replaced by an eerie , profound calm . She looked so deep , her eyes holding no disguise . They were windows into a collapsing star , an endless , beautiful consumption . A supernova burning in her eyes , and I was the planet caught in its radiant , destructive blast .
Then , the shift . The violence of the chase , the sharp punctuation of the bite , would melt into something else . She would gather me up , my muscles still jelly from the run . She would pull me into her lap , onto the soft grass , and envelop me . This was not comfort . This was a smothering . She would hug and cuddle me to death ! Her arms were bands of iron wrapped in silk , squeezing the air from my lungs in a slow , relentless press . Her face would bury in my hair , and again , that sound would rumble from her chest , vibrating through my own . " MUHHAAHAHAHA ! " It was the laugh of a sated dragon , curled around its most prized treasure , loving it to the point of destruction .
There were respites . Moments in the house where the chaotic opera of our relationship would dip into a terrifying minor key . This was the bridge between the storms . She would lead me to the parlor , where the only light came from a single , flickering candle . The cacophony of drums and heartbeats would vanish , replaced by the solitary , reverberating note of a piano , the fragile pluck of a harp string from some unseen corner . Here , her voice would change . The raw baritone would become intimate , clear , and unbearably vulnerable . She would sit me down , kneel before me , and take my face in her hands , her thumbs tracing the orbits of my eyes .
And she would look deep into my eyes and say , " I love you , babe . . . " It was a whispered threat wrapped in a sweet embrace . In that quiet room , those four common words were the most dangerous things she uttered . They were the pin pulled from the grenade . They carried the memory of the hammer , the promise of the bite , the certainty of the suffocating cuddle . And seeing the understanding dawn in my eyes , she would smile . The final smile upon my face before the cycle began anew . It was a smile of perfect , shared madness .
Then , the breath . A deep , single inhalation from her , as if steeling herself . And my cue . My line in this deranged play . If I hesitated , if the fear won and I stayed silent , the delicate bridge would collapse . Her eyes would darken , the supernova cooling into a black hole . Her voice would lose its vulnerability , hardening into a guttural , playful snarl . " You better say it back or I'll poke you ! " It was never specified with what . A finger ? A knife ? The memory of the hammer ? The threat was its brilliance . And to emphasize it , the laugh would return , but tighter , more strained . " Muhhaahahaha ! "
So I would say it . I would pour every ounce of surviving self I had left into the words . " I love you . " They were not a lie . That was the true horror . The bleeding machine she spoke of in the beginning — it wasn't her . It was this . It was the cycle . The chase , the bite , the laugh , the smothering , the whispered threat , the demanded reciprocation . It was a machine built for two , and it bled us both , filtering our souls into a single , chaotic fuel . It made me cwayzee , too . It made me need the hammer , crave the blurry world , worship the supernova even as it scorched me .
" Cuddle me to death , yeah ! " I would sometimes shout , throwing the demand back at her , a willing participant in my own demise . And she would respond , a gleeful echo , " Say you love me ! " The band of our madness would slam back in , full , cathartic , a high energy roar of strings and war drums and that relentless , deep bass that was the sound of my own racing heart . And we would laugh together as the world dissolved . " MUHHAHAHAHA ! "
The outro of our story was never an ending . It was a fading . The music of our conflict would descend into chaotic , echoing laughter , ours entwined , indistinguishable . It would fade out with that same distorted heartbeat it began with , a final , deep bass note that was less a conclusion and more a pause . A comma . For in the silence that followed , in the calm of the battered house and the indented lawn , I could already hear it . The faint , haunting tinkle of the music box , beginning to wind itself up once more . The bleeding machine was always on . And we , its willing parts , were forever cwayzee in its perfect , terrible operation . The lawn waited . The hammer rested in the grass . And the supernova in her eyes slumbered , dreaming of the next chase , the next bite , the next , final , smiling embrace .
