By candle is my night lit,
By you is my heart lit.
My body, incomplete,
Craves your touch.
To be touched.
To be touched.
If not the pleasure of your grip,
Then the pleasure of my own,
By my own hands.
That is all that engulfs my thoughts,
All, for my own pleasure.
I wish to give everything,
But take nothing from me...
Cannot give my all if I feel only emptiness.
Cannot help but feel such a Darkness
Within, and embrace it
For what it is.
Right or wrong, it is inevitable.
Perhaps it is life's growing pains,
Perhaps a simple infatuation.
If the first, at least there is not
A chance I could change it,
If the latter, what has caused
This monster called my mind?
So corrupt, so unrecognizable,
By pain and time.
I do not feel human, I do not
Feel anything. Except pain.
What causes blood and pain to be
The only thing that makes
My mind rest, muscles relax, and
Thoughts flow?
Still, I remain in a coma of thought.
These thoughts.