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Tommy Randell May 13
When we first got together and
You taught me how to kiss
It was a shock to come to know
That pleasure has a fist.

We are not taught as children
Playful Tigers come with risks -
The tongue can be a dagger
As it pierces with a twist.

Did you know before we met
Or was I the catalyst?
Did I wake those demons in you
Like the monologue insists?

You rained on me like fire
So hot it made me hiss,
Then like a glacier in my arms
You pierced me with a twist.

All your stories made me trust you.
Your lust made me enlist
In your army of surrender
The perfect activist.

See me kneeling down before you
The execution fast and slick -
I want now nothing less from you
Than you pierce me with a twist.

Torturer and Victim
How has it come to this,
On a sunny day in heaven
The war of shame persists?

Your compliments are scissors,
Your caress is salt and grit -
Right there from my mirror
You stare, piercing with a twist.
Alec Dec 2017
Use me and abuse me
I love it when I’m all you see
Please be my Queen
I’ll gladly bow on my knees
Treat me like a slave
Punish me when i misbehave
Tell me that I’m nothing
While calling me at 4 am because you “want me”
Let me follow you around
I promise not to make too much sound
I want your punishment and praise
I want to wait on you hand and foot when you just want to laze.
I want you to tie me up
And tell me that I’m just your little pup
And that puppies who don’t follow the rules
And just like jesters and fools.
And need to be punished by their Queen
Until their voice is raw with screams.
Sharon Talbot Sep 2017
Saying “Women of the Night”
Might be alright
As a description for some girls,
They stream eastward
Along the bank,
Checking for marauders and adjusting curls.

Yet courtesans are different;
They came as swiftly as they went,
Called on by important men.
From house and hotel they are borne,
In carriages, and in finery worn,
For those who have a yen.

Yet others still elude one name,
Of condemnation or fame.
They do not wander at men’s whims.
They deliver terms to him or him.
And live in dwellings finer still,
Until the payer has had his fill.

But with the latter does he ever
Tire of the source of pleasure?

For some the need outlasts his want,
And he becomes the supplicant!
Then woman’s wit becomes the master,
While her body wields a whip.
The sinner’s desire speeds still faster,
As she the body’s scale does tip.
This was an attempt to fuse Galsworthy's view of Victorian "women of the night" versus the updated version of Irene Adler as a ******* in the BBC's "Sherlock".
Paul Donnell Mar 2017
Saturated in steely blue clutches, sweating from the 75 degree Georgia night
strung up and washed out with a serpent woman that keeps bringing on the blight
Singing you a song of bliss and blinders.

A big brick red boot on your neck and a green collar that reads The Gardens *****
The Garden takes the taxes tightens up the lead and never relaxes
Hit ya where ya like, the pain is disguised, leather tastes like candy, The Gardens got ya hypnotized.
Your late night camping sight attracts the moon light parasite, that acolyte of appetite, Tonight your the Gardens Delight

You wanna run but she's got those hooks between your shoulder blades feeling like an inexorable **** of silk, smoke and skin.
She gives you every thing you need,
Fountain heads of intemperance and black out nights
Whole streets smelling like grease and charcoal charbroils
Men and women of dexterous lechery, feverous severance, and generous deference
Crystals for your cranium, high altitude dives and the lowest lows.
A cacophony of any entertainment you might want or need, just as long as its seedy.

The Garden keeps blinders on your head to make sure you can't see anything she doesn't want you to.
Try to remove em and the punishment is usually severe.
She might give you the greatest loves you've ever known and turn em to photographs, blot em with LSD and trip you out on memories.
And when you come back to what you think reality is she'll take those photographs and burn em up right in your face and leave you asking if any of it really happened while feeling like it was the realest thing that ever has.
She'll break you and build you up, build you up and break you worse. A cycle of bad things feeling real good.

The Garden will do everything in her power to keep you right here.

But if you can get all those straps and tight leather off, all those hooks and chains.. If you can escape her steely blue clutches,,

You'll finally see how wrong you've been done, and your still gonna want her back in some strange way..
but you might start to heal....
But know this.
No matter where you might run off to,
You'll still be hearing The Garden City call.
That siren song of bliss and blinders.
**** this city.
Xan Abyss Oct 2014
In the dark we wait for death to claim us
In the confines of these rusty chains
In the shadows she destroys our hope
So beautiful and yet so hideous

A thousand dawns have come and gone
So many lives have withered
I taste the taste of hopeless air
The taste is stale and bitter

She loves to see the blood that flows
From the wounds in our weary flesh
No smile will cross her face
Until she hears us scream in pain
As the sand in the wretched hourglass fell
Such agony became my friend
For the snow white teeth in her wicked smile
Is now all I have left

My pain, it fades
My thoughts, they decay
Ignite & burn away with the sin
One look in her eyes
And I am hypnotized
By the blackness that lives therein
My skin becomes gray
My life slips away
The flickering flame dulls within
I remember my life
And am horrified
By the blackness that lives therein

And I am lost in the dark therein
Where my shadow exists no more
I don't remember why I wrote this, and I wrote it forever ago.  Is it even any good? Idk.

— The End —