a cunning sadist stitches my lips together with a needle as sharp as his twisted insanity
his imprecision stems from his hate for
imperfection
he lives in a disturbing meadow of burning
flamed abandonment he calls home
he thinks no one can understand him so he
doesn't speak a word
his fingers are cold as a blizzard when they
brush against my cracked lips
his insides are leaking rage
he hid his face of broken glass until he
picked me
a lost soul craving intimacy crushes me with
a heaviness of whirring despair
he feeds me his weaknesses so he doesn't
have to feel alone
he paralyzes me because he can
his bitterness has become the wrong
motivation
his coursing veins of blackened blood stick
sorely out
his eyes are empty holes he forces me to fall
into
he crept up from behind so I couldn't run
there is no cunning sadist
there is no lost soul
they can't be saved because they're just
excuses
so I open my mouth
breaking the poorly threaded strings of misunderstanding
but no sound comes out
I push the heavy weight off of me
but there's no strength left to move
I lay in the abyss with my thoughts
watching people far above me as they walk
past
Love love love this so much.
ReplyDelete"a lost soul craving intimacy crushes me with a heaviness of whirring despair"
ReplyDeleteThat one was among many favorite lines, actually the whole thing was my favorite, but your words were unbelievably magical. Brilliant, beautiful, magic.