sado-masochism is not a rigid term,
it can easily be flipped
onto its head
and become maso-sadism...
well...
at least masochists
and sadists have evolved
nerve-endings,
and can differentiate
while at the same time
integrate
    an antonym grey area
of pain, and pleasure...
psychopaths,
              who exprience
a non-differentiated-integral
experience...
apathy breeds no pathology...
with atheism there is no god;
apathy breeds no pathology...
apathy and the wild beast,
unlike the *******
who you could cage,
unlike the sadist
who you could cage...
stereotype...
   a psychopath and the blank,
canvas, the liar detector
and the murmuring fizz of
static flatline...
    maso-sadism...
the pleasure in pain inflicted,
countered by the moral
pain experienced by
an individual, adhering
to "the" collective,
sado-masochists are bugs...
a maso-sadist
mingles with the psychopath
on the ground of:
the 99% materialistic certainty,
torture by: the pathology
of the existence of a soul,
per se...
           a sado-******* doesn't
possess the inversion of
sadism...
              which might be done
unto them...
                the ridicule surrounding
the mea culpa mantra
  of: hurting others translates
as also hurting yourself
falls on death ears...
a maso-sadist, enjoys
the pain inflicted...
because the sadism he sees
is attired in the subtlety
of non-physicality...
the only theatre where moral
conundrums take place...
moral pain, guilt...
           immobility of social
stature...
             personal guilt...
sado-masochists are pathetic
in that... they are trivial...
in their cul d sac mentality...
who, if the roles be reversed...
cannot play the role
of the *******...
      but, like the sadism allows...
the helpless, victim...
first comes the Eden
of self-inflicted pain,
or rather, allowing it from the other...
only once this threshold is
filled to the brim...
comes the theatrical
shunning of memory...
leaving the grotesque
   mechanisation of imagination
take over.
    unless you haven't been
in hospital, cheery,
watching the moral banquet
take place, watching intact
bodies, but tortured souls
ever so briefly,  by a void
of where thinking ought to
be fixed...
         maso-sadism
is a pleasure from pain...
   and a sadism...
    of watching people...
self-impose torture on themselves...
with nothing but a chance
predicament of an object...
           that, in their mind,
will never be a subject
to counter their objectness...
a wholly staged industrialised
moment...
                because you will bypass that,
without ushering in ridicule,
next time you go to the supermarket,
and read a cashier's name tag?
      subtle sadism in a *******'s
eye...
            the helpless Samaritan...
a sleeping good-willingness...
                        much more...
to see in someone an inability to help,
a frozen immediacy of
potential mingled with impotency...
like I said, sado-masochists
are leeches, cockroaches...
who needs torture and primitive
tools to exhume screaming...
when you can peer into
the elaborate torture of
a murmuring soul?