A Suicidal masochist

What infinte pleasure I live in. Finding joy and delight in my ever twist and turn. The impurity of the world delights me. Death and torture have begun to tease me. Like pornography to a growing child. What sweet ecstasy the macabre expounds to me. It seems all I want in the world are tools to make my life harder. It's to easy to come by happiness in this state. I was made for this world. Sent by god to enjoy the evilest of her spoils. I am a gift to all that is disgusting on earth. Like a tree I clean the air of agony. This is done by stuffing my face with it. Ooh how beautiful blood trully is. But your to busy feeling joy to admire this. I pitty the stupidity of the emotionally and mentally sane. I wonder what lies they were told that make them feel whole. Do they not see the fire beneath their feet. Do they not feel the heat burn through their souls. Or am I blessed with a sadness that helps me feel true emotions. I am a parasite that spreads disease. However I spread it only to those in need of me. I engrave my skin with all my sins. Then whisper sweet nothings to a dead tree. Often I spread ink filled with my dreams all over screens. Oh what a creep I seem to be. You dream of love. I dream of lust. Yet I am called a foul. In truth only one of these lies from the world we live in can come true. But you carry on pining for the wrong one. You still have dreams. But somehow hate the idea of a neverending sleep. What a fool you are to wish you can be better. When you can always wish not to be. How can you fear the wrath of a deity that won't even let you be. Do you really live when you fear death. Or do you breathe bubbles of oxygen in your watery web of lies. Continuing to tell yourself untruths in order to feel alive. It's sad how trully depressed you are don't you think. You won't feel this truth for it's a mirror you refuse to see your nudity through. I wonder how vulnerable you feel knowing I know to much about you. You'll probably look me in the eyes and hold back tears. Even if you do I know and enjoy the thought that I have violated you. You are putty in my hands. All because I know you beg for a better person to notice you. But they won't. Infact they never do. You are nothing and everyday you try to forget. But your inferiority is my truth so I own it. You are are ugly beyond compare. So ugly that you cry unprovoked for hours and hours wishing your life would end.

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Written by

DysFuckstional

20 / M / South Africa

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