You soft,
You smell good,
You taste so bitter,
Summer.
You harden,
You sharpen,
You look sick,
Autumn.
You sleep,
A long life's sleep,
You die,
Winter.
You are back,
My friend,
You are back.
Spring.
You are grass.

Fear is a wine-red chartreuse window.
Holding within the fantasies and myths of ones mind, body, and soul.
Ever present, it stays with you your entire journey.
To gaze from afar, brings you closer to your destruction.
However, the best place to cast the stone that obliterates it's well being,
Is the place where few tread.
Your time is now to play the role of David.
Your Goliath is fear.
And your stone,
Is you.

You sing and you dance,
You rock my world in my chair,
It feels so very nice.

I'm sweating now babe,
I'm rocking back and forth now,
You hand me a fruit.

I eat your lemon,
It tastes wet and quite sour,
I love sour fruit.

It quenches my thirst,
However it is bitter,
Reminds me of love.

We move forward now,
"Onto the Entrée," you say,
I prepare myself.

Sitting down waiting,
You approach me with content,
Yet I sense anger.

You slap me with meat,
A big red mark on my face,
It was a cold steak.

My face throbs and swells,
A great black bruise on my cheek,
You laugh at my pain.

"Time for desert," you yell,
Whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and
Nuts cover my ***.

"Nice and sweet. I like."
You say as you shoot whipped cream
Into my small mouth.

What is happening!?!
Are these zip ties I'm bound in!?!
Your laugh gives me chills.

"I want you to scream!"
I'm struggling to brake free,
You show no mercy.

And so it begins,
There is nothing I can do,
I am trapped for good.

Tied to the bed frame,
I can't seem to free myself,
My escape has failed.

Another lemon?
No! No! It's not a lemon.
It's a yellow gourd.

"Here it comes!" You say,
Holding the gourd, you strike me,
Breaking many ribs.

"Macaroni and-"
I get interrupted from
Using the safe word.

"You will never be
able to say the safe word!"
You shout with anger.

What is done, is done.
There is now way to regain
My sanity now.

Sprawled out on the floor.
How did I get here? I am
truly all alone.

My bonds have been cut,
My legs shake like a scared mutt,
What's wrong with my ****?

Feeling very sick,
I can barely walk without
Falling onto my knees.

"Why me?" I murmur,
There's a door, slightly ajar,
I'm free! Salvation!

My hopes get too high,
There is a not on the door,
"See you next time Marc!" Xoxo

Signed at the bottom,
With a little smudge, lipstick,
The signature, "-Liam"

Estrogen swimming,
Testosterone pumping,
Basically just another excuse for teens to drink alcohol and smoke ****.
But ****, if you get laid… props.

Change that to eight minutes

To my socks,
We play footsie every day,
I can't go anywhere without you.
To my socks,
You are like a ******,
when my feet are without you,
They are susceptible to great danger.
With you,
Less so.
When in shoes,
Without you, is like a sweaty, fiery hell,
No relief.
With you,
Soft, comfy, footy majestic ness.
Walking on cold floors,
You are still there for me.
Even for that poor boy Richard, he uses socks now and then,
For his silly foot,
Poor boy.
I admire you dear socks,
They're is nothing else I would rather have on my feet.

Baaaaaaaaaaahhhhh
Baaaaahhhhh
Baaaaaaaaaaahhhhh

The most awkward five minutes of my life.

Soft, but then it's sharp,
like bad pudding in the mouth,
and smells of candles

The Neanderthal
Stalks his prey, in tall grass, fails,
He relieves himself