Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Is there nothing right and wholesome left to be had on this planet? A people of disgrace and disregard. Are there no true lovers, friends, or family left? Let me go. Throw me away on the wings of freedom and I will let the wind catch me for it is more steady than man. Family has forsaken in the name of "love," friends have become liars, and lovers have crushed and broken the spirit of those who loved them most. There is more solace in the cold, dark night than in the arms of those who care.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Will I ever get relief from this pounding, pounding in my head? Will the dry, burning of my eyes ever feel relief? Pounding. Pounding. I beg of you to stop your torment. Please, do not rip my life and my love from my hands! You have not listened to my desperate cries. You have torn my heart from my chest and left me empty. A gaping hole. The life is gone. I feel nothing. You look at me and say "it is for your good." It is good you say? How can it be good to exist as a cold and empty shell...Pounding...Pounding in this cold, empty shell is all I have left.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
You left your mark on me. Your fingers were left on my skin as I consciously covered them with my sweater. I feared the questions that would lead to the revealing marks of what I felt not just on my skin. You pushed against my throat and my mouth. Can they tell by looking at my face? Can they see how my body was thrown on the floor as it relinquished to a stronger force, but not a stronger will? Can they sense my shrinking back into a ravaged body? "Hush," he says, "don't fight me." It will all be over soon if I let him be. That was my mistake. It is still not over.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
The smell of deep, red wine is on her lips. The clear glass presses at her mouth as the warm liquid runs down her throat with a slight burn that reminds her of a passion mixed with pain. Her head falls back as she releases herself to the pleasure of drink flowing with blood. It consumes her body as if it were a lover whom she is given over to, and as quickly as a lover pushes pleasure through her veins, it vanishes.