Mar 2015
I see hands,
Around throat,
Claws digging into skin, scratching pulpers.
Moans; sounds of ecstasy.
He likes pain,
He wants you to cut him, kiss him,
Shrugs, doesn't matter.
He dreams of razor kisses,
Dark bars,
Pool and wild darts.
Giggling in the blue, fluorescent corners,
They lick, nip, nibble, taste!
He is on the edge of phenomenal feeling,
Leaning over; falling in.
Perfect time to cut his throat,
Tie a noose in imagination's eye,
He would love that,
If you gave him pain,
So he can moan again.
Now you know his world,
What he likes.
He is fire,
He is pain.
-MoonFirefly
Around throat,
Claws digging into skin, scratching pulpers.
Moans; sounds of ecstasy.
He likes pain,
He wants you to cut him, kiss him,
Shrugs, doesn't matter.
He dreams of razor kisses,
Dark bars,
Pool and wild darts.
Giggling in the blue, fluorescent corners,
They lick, nip, nibble, taste!
He is on the edge of phenomenal feeling,
Leaning over; falling in.
Perfect time to cut his throat,
Tie a noose in imagination's eye,
He would love that,
If you gave him pain,
So he can moan again.
Now you know his world,
What he likes.
He is fire,
He is pain.
-MoonFirefly
This is the second poem in a series I wrote to reflect on how I felt at different points in my sixteen years. All I hope is that someone tries to see beyond what I wrote and figure out what exactly happened to me during these periods, and also I hope someone might figure out who these boys are that I write of and how they impacted me and my life. Thank you for all who are willing to try and help. - MoonFirefly
