when light fades
and hope dissipates
whether you see me sitting on a high seat in valhalla
or in a semblance of the underworld
speak to me and i will listen
i whisper words of the forgotten
to the ones of the shattered hearts
the ravens, the wolves, and the midnight breezes
are my messengers and my voice
when it seems all else has abandoned,
you are safe in my embrace
for i am the dark god
and in the shadows i wait

Rough ,Wet, Make it hurt
Sore in the morning
No time to flirt
No love, no whispers
Not even a kiss
Like animals, Mechanical
Tasting this
Bruises, teeth marks,
hickeys, thirst
*******, licking, Harder, grinding
The spot, Almost
Screaming, finding
Spasm, tightening
******, blinding

Tightness, wetness
******* again
Scratching
Biting
Pain on skin
Senseless
Nerves numb
Disembodied
Riding
Hips meet
Harder.
please
Back arching
Body aching
Hair pulling
Teeth grazing
Name…moaning
Wasted…loathing
Faking, groaning
******, phony
Over with, finally
Sadness is stifling
Staring at the ceiling
Sigh at the thought
Of wasted virginity

A symphony of harsh tones,
Tearing chords, pounding drums
Something that so many define as simply ?noise?
is so soothing to our ears
Being classical in a way only we can comprehend
Expressing feelings that we cannot
put into words.
things we feel in a way
only that beautiful?noise? can describe
When that harsh symphony swells to a peak,
a crescendo,
We feel release of the pressure
on out hearts and minds,
and for a short
and all too rare and precious time,
we can be free

Life is laundry,
life is dishes,
life is mowing the lawn
on a really hot day when you dont want to mow the lawn.
it's an itch where the scratch dont satisfy.
a broken reward circuit.
an endless procession of days punctuated by their ends.
several.
short.
halting.
sentences.
mop the floor.
walk the dog.
go to work.
awash in disappointment.
i'm always misspelling that word
familiar with it yet i fumble.
just like my ******* chores.

The words of infamy, elation and dread are as follows:
"I think we should have ***"
exuberance immediately follows, this is what you've wanted for so long.
but your body betrays you again.
nothing. nothing. nothing.
the lack of response from your body like a negative heartbeat.
a deepening hole, a very real depression. the object of your desire, even your love in front of you and your life, your thrill for *** flat-lines.
such depression is the death of joy.
the body is willing but the flesh is living dead.
you still breathe, you are still alive, but the question remains:
is life worth living when your passion is flat-lined?
I'm not sure it is anymore

"Impossible"
It's my least favorite swear word,
its the lowly limiter i loathe.
its the only true curse word Ive ever heard and i try hard not to use it.
"she" might hear me
"she" is always open to a challenge
but no..."impossible" is not a word i choose to indulge.
It's too...boring.