.
Tapioca sky,

feel the knife curve
like a Moon-hook,

wrenching a tourmaline gash
into hallucinating gums,

ritualised in immortal agony.


Lemon clouds,

see the portrait smile
like a nightmare,

feasting on famine entrails,
of sacrificed words,

scything off the tongue.



© Pagan Paul (2017)

.
Old psychedelic poem.
.

don't waste your breath
telling me to get better, talk dirty to me
don't hold your breath
hoping i try to help myself.
if you're going to hold my neck
hold it a lot tighter than that,
don't forget to push down
on my windpipe with your palm,
we're wrapped up in these bedsheets
because i want you to hurt me.
i want to see the rope burn on my wrists glisten
where it's begun to tear away at my flesh
and i like to feel real tangible knots
when i'm tied up in self loathing.
i struggle to find the line between
lovesick and depressed or
being a masochist. what's the big difference.
either way i wake up with bruised
blue lips and oxygen deprivation,
and fresh linens wet with singeing liquids,
and a pain in my stomach or lungs that means
i'm still breathing slightly.
i wanted you to kill me.

saranade Aug 2014

You, I,
      polymorphously perverse
           your hand covers my mouth
                   voices adverse
            Liberation, but in reverse.
Submit and admit...
                    Or
               disposed to oppose...
I want to beg, plead,
      submerse and disburse
               I burst in silence for my cursed thirst
             first, be more covert,
        I'd prefer if we
                  don't
                                       converse
I'll sing you your pleasure without
            a
                 single
                          verse.

How do I tame the tamer?

A smile plays on my lips
one hand caressing my cheek
And the other is firmly on my neck
Squeezing sweetly, cutting off the air
So that I can finally breathe

Karl Warren Aug 2

he looks at the world through ragged eyes,
he gazes lovingly up at Her,
his daily façade a disguise,
Inside a cur.
She looks at the world with ambitious intent,
Her sadistic malice is his pleasure,
Her feet on his back quite content,
A moment he will treasure.

his obedience runs deep,
Moments of agony are memories to keep.

Tie her down and strike her
once, twice, thrice.
The pain is not her own,
leave her defenseless.

She gave up her freedom
when she stepped through the door,
So quick she was to lie on the bed,
yet the situation, she misread.

She struggles and moans
through a washing of crimson tears,
Yet would her release be allowed,
she would not go, it is not her wish.

In life she had sinned
and sealed her fate,
For eternity she shall remain,
as for her, it is too late.

Styles May 27

feed me with your flavor
fill me with your taste
let your fragrance be my mace
get me tongue tied until my mouth is laced
with that taste of the paste
between your pearly gates;
seal my fate

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