I don’t know where to begin,
I cut holes in my skin again
I press down my fingers to break open
the scabs when I see you smile
so I don’t get ahead of myself in thinking
I could feel good someday too
there’s red stains on all my favourite clothes
my period thrills me to no end,
dear mother nature, I wish I could
bleed every day of the month,
I’m a good ****
I’m a tease,
I’m a corpse walking
I’m rotting flesh hanging off a meat hook,
and nothing turns me on more than these
fantasies of the barrel of a gun massaging
the back of my throat like **** in my mouth,
blood spray on the walls, dripping down my
neck and pooling on the floor like ***
I want to lay in the wet spot and let my
eyes roll back into my skull, face-fucked
one final time by a revolver
- S.G.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 4:44 AM UTC
I don’t know where to begin,
I cut holes in my skin again
I press down my fingers to break open
the scabs when I see you smile
so I don’t get ahead of myself in thinking
I could feel good someday too
there’s red stains on all my favourite clothes
my period thrills me to no end,
dear mother nature, I wish I could
bleed every day of the month,
I’m a good ****
I’m a tease,
I’m a corpse walking
I’m rotting flesh hanging off a meat hook,
and nothing turns me on more than these
fantasies of the barrel of a gun massaging
the back of my throat like **** in my mouth,
blood spray on the walls, dripping down my
neck and pooling on the floor like ***
I want to lay in the wet spot and let my
eyes roll back into my skull, face-fucked
one final time by a revolver
- S.G.
please don't take this too literally.
Request permission to use this poem