This man I don't know
stopped me in a room full of paintings,
asked me if I knew that
Helonias was having an ******

as she clutched the head
of John the Baptist
and pierced the tongue
that spoke against her-

I had always thought
the woman was mourning.

Her face seemed contorted
in statuesque grief,
but, no -

She was *******
as she mutilated
the first cousin of Christ.

How, strange, how brutal
a thing to know.

Sweats rolling down my thighs
Eyes closing like the end of a play
"To be or not to be"
But here I am in between the clench and a hiss.

Like a song
Slowly, slowly humming and building
The chorus trembles the harmony
Big Bang can't compare to this.

On a throne of pillows
I languish
Eyes closed
Mind composed
Lost in a memory
Body aching
Pulse racing
As my hands .......
My hands
Travel slowly
Down my body
Seeking pleasure
Finding my centre
Releasing the agony
Of my ecstasy
Spilling through my fingers
As I spiral
Towards a supernova

(C) Pixievic

like
a trickle
from mountain rain
it starts ......

my
Desire

a quiver of droplets
converging together
coursing through my body
consuming my thoughts
babbling down my contours
into my valleys
soaking my senses
with lust
growing in need
shuddering across rocks
rapidly gaining in momentum
uncontrolled
in a frenzy of whitewater
finally
reaching the drop
tantalising
at the very brink
pulsing
with waves of pleasure
before plunging
headlong over the edge
in a waterfall of longing
falling into the abyss
of fantasy

flooding
              the river
                        with
                            my song

(C) Pixievic

the frustration I had
after failing
to bring myself to ******
for the
tenth
time this past week
makes me more
furious
than depressed

seriously
my *** drive
has always been high

as soon as I
got over
the shame
society places on women
for enjoying
their sexuality
I have always used
*******
as a release
relieves
stress
leaves me
relaxed
and
content

or should I say,
left me
feeling that way

usually
it was once a day
fairly frequent
but, it
matched
my *** drive's
needs

what the **** is wrong with me

I have tried
imagining,
watching,
reading,
looking at
every form
of erotica
that exists

I have searched
through everything
I can find
from
****,
******,
stories,
comics

and my search history
will let you know
that I've searched
everything
from
****
to
******
to
interracial lesbian forced *******
and things
worse
than that

e v e r y t h i n g

used to take me,
oh, I dunno
maybe three minutes
with my *******?

after
around an hour
is when I give up
now
I even bought
a different
*******
NO
RELEASE
NO
PASSION
GONE
what is
WRONG
WITH
ME

oh yeah -
depression

I mean
I knew it was bad
when video games
no longer
had appeal
that was enough

games
have been a passion
and a hobby of mine
since I was five

the other hobby
I started a bit older than five
but
you stole that one, too

after depression
beat the **** out of me
on Tuesday
I thought that was it
thought
since the next morning
I awoke
without the urge
to **** myself
it was over

nope

you have robbed me
of the simplest
things
in my life
that give me pleasure

no more
wriggling
moaning
spasming
the tingling
sensation
that starts in my toes
and makes its way
up
the length of my body
the warmness
that follows
with it
the
satisfaction
slight smile
snuggly
sleepy
post ****** me

I miss her
give her
back

I miss my life
give it
back

this isn't
ME
for ***** sake!

I am a ******
witty
humorous creature
full of passion
looking
for opportunities
to get myself off!
not this
depressed
apathetic
vessel
without soul.

you won't stop
until you have
everything
in my life

you won't stop
until you
put
my soul in your mouth
chew
grind
crush it

your saliva
breaks me down

spit me out
please
I am fighting
for you to cough me up
regurgitate
the essence
of me
let me put myself
back inside this body
please
please

no
you won't stop
you will eat my soul
until
ever fiber
protein
ounce of health
I had
is now
inside of you,
depression

cold-hearted *****

Stomach pains directly connected to the interwoven circuits that are
Wondering, hoping.

Stopping at blind corners
Questioning the soul...

A potion of acid and cactus forms
Transformative contributions.

Catching up because you woke up to late.

Now it's to late; so late that your building a statue to remember the good you see in others.

The universe is penetrating everything at the same time it's being penetrated while we all wonder what is happening?

What does this all mean?

Why are we here?

Everything is ***** and a ******, everyone is ******* everyone and everything and everyone and everything is being ****** at the same time...

Nobody gets it while the soul is in the body.

By the time the true soul leaves the said body you fools will build a statue of this body that no longer has a soul.

Death
is
subjective.

Harvests
of
thought
which
stir the
midnight
consolations
churn
and
turn
empty
capacities.



Emotions
which
awaken
yet
cease
all
in
the
space
of
30
spent
seconds,
little
slaughter.


Equinoxes
sprung
and
autumnal
spines
break
flooding
in
a whispered
annihilation.

Expiration
morphs
wasteland
into
sentience
as
Darkness
of
a post
apocalypse
draws
and
sketches
on
a
spent
sheet of
paper.

Gaze into my eyes
Pull me close
Touch me
Inhale
Kiss me
Inhale
Bite me
Inhale
Hearts pounding
Sweat dripping
Knees trembling
******