I am the sufferer and you are my God.
I thirst for ******* and defy you not.
I take delight in your daily abuse.
I am the victim and you are my muse.

Set fire to my skin
Let me feel something again
Watch me as I burn
And I breathe you in

In the dark of the night I can feel you
And I need this feeling to last
I repent for my ways
Relive those dark days
And I lose my mind over you

When the lights go off do you feel the same?

When the lights go on do we begin again?

I told you I was a *******,
that I love a little pain.
I thought the sadist in you would make me a fun game.

I was not prepared for the way you chose to harm.
Mentally and emotionally instead of tying up my arm.

I see now that you’re a lesson learned too late.
Nothing good can come from you, you live to humiliate.

roughness
I thrive on it
Toughness
I live for it
Little girl of sixteen
Begging for ferocity
Tell me
Teach me
Mark me up
Pain is pretty
And I wanna be ******* beautiful

I'm a stone cold ******* practically pleading for my pale neck in between your callused hands
And blood dripping from my lip
From a hard bite that caused me to whimper

I'm a **** for ***** ****

More blood drawn for no apparent reason.
Things may be okay, but I am not.
My body will be my canvas, that nobody will see.
My scars will be a masterpiece, but only in my dreams.
I want the pain.
Or is it pleasure?
Since I get so much joy from the crimson blood forming on my thigh.
I am a *******.
I want it, I need it.

Infatuation bought you time
to infiltrate the delicate tubes of her heart and organs
with pretty words
and the stroke of your fingers
dancing along her collar bones.
She was a violin wailing sweetly
in the broken silence,
wisps of your hair in her fist
as you demonstrated to her your lustful
affection.
She clung to you.
knowing she was an instrument,
never admitting to warfare in her blood
that boiled in fervor.
White blood cells facing a legion
of your searing kisses
that swam through her veins
till she bled them out.
Your lips sang in harmony with hers
as they pressed against her neck and shoulders
moving urgently from place to place.
She lie there beneath the weight of your body
seething with guilt
while you thought only of the girl down the lane
whom had never felt your touch.
Uncharted territory , you thought.
And you left.

Do not fall in love with girls like me

I will stray away and become a recluse and forget your name
But you, you will still feel the poison coursing through your bones that was injected the first time I kissed you
You will still taste the bitterness of my name on the tip of your tongue for years to come
You will still feel the sting of my embrace and my finger tips grazing your thigh long after I have run off
You will hear that one song and remember the haunting melody of my voice whispering to you during our late nights

Girls like me do not start with the intention of being this way
Girls like me dream about love and romance and living together in holy matrimony
But girls like me are full of fear and abandonment issues
"Leave before you get left" plays like an alarm in my mind over and over

Do not fall in love with girls like me, unless you are a *******

I am the prodigal daughter
of Hestia--
Goddess of hearth,
warmth,
embers that do not fade,
for they glow as softly
as lightning bugs.

But this time,
I will not be returning home.

Don't you see?

I've burned it down already.

Perhaps there shall exist no redemption
for my pyromanic sins.

They could not save
Sylvia Plath
as she ****** her head into the oven,
carbon monoxide stealing away
her last strands of breath.

(Sadness climbs up my throat in
stalagmites of flame,
rises from the chasm of my soul like bile,
like a phoenix reborn.)

They could not save
Joan of Arc,
whose flesh screamed out among
the ringlets of fire
and threads of cinder
that consumed it
so mercilessly.

(No, I am not a witch--
just a demi-goddess,
just a dangerous woman
But, unlike Joan of Arc,
I am no Saint either.)

They could not save Pompeii
whose inhabitants lay
victimized
asphyxiated
stolen
by the magma regurgitated by
the Almighty Vesuvius

(I cannot decide who I am
more similar to--
the inhabitants of Pompeii,
or the lava itself)

Perhaps then,
there is no saving a woman like me--
a woman forged from brimstone,
Hell's very own Femme Fatale.

I wear lighter fluid
atop my collar bone like its fragrance;
braid singed ribbon into my hair,
its ends charred and
curling upwards like tendrils of smoke;
rouge my lips with gunpowder.

Kiss me and
bite the bullet, darling--
make love to me
and you will combust.

But oh!

How these men will  bite their lip
at the thought of
******* me,
of dipping their fingertips
into the molten pools
that dwell between my thighs
similar to the way
a mere girl
(I, 16 years old)
is fascinated by the prospect
of baptizing her own melancholic
hands in candle wax.

(Who's the real ******* here, Baby?


Sincerely,
your Filthy Pyrophilliac.)


I am a
shadow charmer,
arsonist
the  Siren
of this Inferno
(wanted for her crimes).

Perhaps I was never the epitome of darkness,
perhaps I simply
lured the darkness towards me
(sorrow and the devil too.)

It's funny now that I think about it,
how the stars too reside in darkness,
how, when I wish upon them,
I am really only wishing on fire.

And where there is fire,
there is destruction;
it's no wonder all these dreams--
those of
love
magic
poetry--
have shuddered to ash.

Still, l I find myself making
snow angels in the ashes,
stick my tongue out,
let the remnants of desire
scorch my taste buds.

Here I lie
like an extinguished cigarette,
my use fulfilled and discarded.
But that's just fate,
stars ain't too fond
of nicotine, ya see,
ain't too fond of me
even though the very atoms
that comprise my being
are made of the stuff of galaxies.

But, oh, how these galaxies
have escaped my brooding grasp.

I do whatever it takes
to re-ignite what has been
lost--
chew on matchsticks,
let the splinters sear themselves
into my tongue;
lap at the iridescent gasoline puddles
that wade along
lonely streets corners;
howl beneath paper lanterns,
for both the sun and the moon
have forsaken me.

I do whatever it takes
to remember where I come from--
a state of limbo,
wherein I am simultaneously
angel (falling) |and| demon (the fallen)

What am I without flame?

Flame--
they could not save me from it,
from burning.

But perhaps the peril was never in burning;
perhaps it was in  burning out;
perhaps it was in disintegrating.

Someone who enjoys pain
Smiling as blood drips from wounds
And dopamine pours from the brain
A moan escapes as your teeth clamp down
Coated with bruises
To show to the whole town
Pulling on heartstrings
Or pulling on hair
The pain is the same, so why do I care
Because I'm a ******* baby
Punish me good; all night and all day
Because, if I can feel the pain
I know you'll stay

Wherever he'd believed me,
it'd been a temperate climate.
Not too cold, not too hot, one
of those Buddhist middle path
days where the weather sat to
meditate. What I'd told him was,
"well, my friend, there is nothing
new under the sun."

He giggled like a 6 year old and
said, "except when I turn over
rocks."

All you say is
Never again
You say this isn't love
But something brings you back
Every time
You're just a *******
So pain is what you're looking for
Tears running down your face
Is nothing new
Girl all you say is
Never again
You say you can't find love
But something brings you to me
Not just tonight
But every night
Because you're just a *******
So pain is what you're looking for
So bring your self to me
I can take your pain away tonight

☁️

i know
what i should be saying -
something
along the lines of,
"how dare you
take advantage
of my heart".

but instead,
i find myself
pleading,
"please,
come back once more
and take
all i have left".

Hold my hands above my head
Push me down into the bed
Bite me harder, rip my flesh
Put my sanity to the test
  
Do it harder, I like it rough
Do it faster, you know I'm tough
I'm a screamer baby,  so you know
For you, I'll put on a show

You can ruin me and torture me
I won't charge you, do it for free
Rip out all my feelings deep inside
**** me baby and make me cry

Harder, faster, stronger, please
Make me beg til I'm on my knees
I'm a screamer girl, that you know
For you baby, I'll put on a show

i said never again,
but maybe this time
you would be different.
maybe it would hurt less,
when you handed
my love back to me.
maybe we were still
made of stardust,
desperate for another chance
to make it.
wanting to do better,
to finish what we started.
but you walked out the door
and once again,
i'm left alone
with my ******* heart
and the unwavering need
to love that which can destroy me.

I've proven myself to be weak
Limbs as frail as my hopes and dreams
How can I live with a future so bleak?
My tired eyes see nothing but deceit
Leaving them to bleed and weep
This cowardice makes it hard to see
I strive for the life that everyone needs
But all it's taught me is how to bleed

This is the end of the line
No hero could spare this sight
Faith swears I'm cursed by the divine
Or is this the end of a tainted bloodline?
Why is that we're so scared to be?
Hollow and without cause we've been searching to see
A pointless birth just replacing the dead
Was he merely a coward with a gun at his head?

Ride this wave until it crashes
Ride until it burns to ashes
Practice picking up the pieces
Taxing though it always pleases
Visualizing the distant end
Eager to break things apart again

I am the catalyst of this cataclysm
the catastrophe that impaled
the atmosphere
of this vagabond heart
that is shaped like a sphere
and an uncertain future
being build out of fear
that gets bypassed product
of my cynicism.
 
Secluded in my lab
concocting a potion for this illness
and when all else fails
call me the alchemist
nothing more than an
angst-ridden antagonist
my apologies to the pessimist,
my excuses to the optimist
I was born to be a *******
with a heart made of silver.
 
Buried in my bunker
trapped in someone else's lore
which in turn makes me the catalyst
of my own downfall
I was baptized a Catholic
without ever being asked
turn me into a Cyclist
and I'll pedal real far
turn me into a Scientist
and my lab coat will leave my side
turn me into a labyrinth
and you won't be able to find
traces of me, of who I was
or who I never came to be.

Sadistic Queen,
how are you so mean?
Your punches are subtle,
but leave me with internal bleeding.

I love the way it stings.

Bring me another poisoned fruit from your tree.
Make my stomach ball tighter than a white-knuckled fist.
Hit me again,
you beautiful bruiser.
I've never before felt a pain such as this.

You are a *******'s *******.
Take one step closer and I swear, I'll scream.
****** ****** doesn't even hold a candle
to this twisted, grisly, nightmarish scene.

It's almost more than I can handle.
Stop it.
Stop it!
You're hurting me!

there is pride in pain
pleasure in punishment
and dignity in degradation

so i'll be

in my own little self-torture chamber
wallowing in my own little passion pit
plastering a new persona on myself

and when i'm done

this internal itch for ill blood
will ease
but i myself will be stronger

We are polar opposites
You are West, I am East
Our views always contradict
You have a sweet tooth, I don't like sweets

You are white, I am black
Not literally, but just in life view
Sometimes you're ***** white and I'm clear black
It varies from half empty to half full

You are an extravert
While I am an introvert
You like being surrounded by people
I'm fine being secluded in the darkest corner

You're frank and always true
I lie so no one will have a clue
But you always know what I hide
While I am oblivious if you're really fine

You are a cat-lover, I am a dog-lover
It rain cats and dogs when we're together
You sing the sweetest meow at my whimper
I happily wag my tail at your purr

We both like music though
But we listen to different genres
We never even shared on one earphone
So sometimes we just endure the silence

You are a sadist, I am a *******
You leave bite marks on my skin
Whenever you're overwhelmed
But I'm really fine with it

You like Vampire Diaries and Victoria's Secret
While I like TVXQ and anime
We'll never agree on a TV show
Now who's gonna hold the remote control?

You are a clean freak
I am not that very clean
You're probably next to Godliness
While I'm second to the last in that list

You are very hardworking, I am lazy
While you are being busy
I'm being a potato on the couch
"Sweep the floor.", you said as the broom flew on my face, "Ouch!"

I like food trips
But you are on a diet
You like to eat healthy
I like to eat anything but veggies

True, we don't have anything in common
Except for the dislike of the black part of the fish's meat
But we are familiar of our demons
And the how-tos for its defeat

Yes, we must be polar opposites
And yes, we're like magnets
Positive plus negative
To each other, we are attracted

I am salt, you are pepper
And we complement each other
We are each others' puzzle pieces
Completing each others' emptiness

We are yin and yang
We cannot live without either one
And most importantly, you and I
We rhyme

St. Valentine Was A *******
he clearly was Aphrodite's *****
he became a slave to that amorous witch
and cupid was his constant itch
Now his day is set aside
for marketing and sales besides
lingerie and chocolate, flowers and jewels
are profit for money grubbing tools

One day out of the year shouldn't be set aside
to show your partner you care besides
love is more than hot passionate ***
it's more than cards with funny effects
love entails more than having kids

While I'm here can I just address
Ladies, we think its for the best,
that you just say what you want, no more hints or indirectness,
don't expect us to know we can't read minds, that's not how nature erected us

creation like an all-consuming fire
splintering sense of self until a chest fills with bone shards

aspirating ***** / spitting up blood
if only for the sake of the

tradition

sounds like suffering / smells like delusion
feels like an unexpected weight

and yet it is better than the silence
the silence before / the silence after

                                                          ­                                             is this love?
                                                           ­                                            is this love?
                                                           ­                                            is this love?

                                                          ­             is this it?
                                                             ­          is this it?
                                                             ­          is this it?

Give me the pain, please.
Even if there is none.
Project what you think fit
onto my masochistic spirit,
who waits, open, longing
for the jab.

But that's not his name.
He really doesn't have a name.
For starters no name could even hint at what he means to me.
No name could get anywhere near his sheer visceral naked beauty.
No name could delineate the slim ripple of his muscles.
His beautiful stiff ****--oh so suckable and lickable.
No name could hint at the smell of the dried **** on his *****.
No name could begin to describe the taste of his warm fresh ***.
No name would fit the feel of the shaft of his perfect stiff **** in my fingers.
No name could describe the shade of lavender of his exposed **** head.
The way his **** head fits in my mouth.
The feeling on my tongue as I slide it along the full length of the shaft of his stiff ****.
I call him Ben.
Weve travelled the world together for nigh on 29 years now.
Ive ****** his **** in ,my imagination on most continents,as ive laid in the same room tossing myself off imagining being ****** by him every night and during every day..
Ive licked his *** filled ***** in Bangkok and Delhi and London and Amsterdam and Barcelona and Deia and Kathmandu and Bodh Gaya and York and Paris and Dharamsala and Amravati and oh so many other places.
Ive swallowed litres of his warm fresh ***.
Ive rained typhoons of kisses on his upturned face.
Ive tossed him off to ******* too many times to count.
Ive loved him endlessly.
I call him Ben .
His diamond sharp intellect.
His smirky smile that lights up his face.
His oh so tasty tongue flickering in and out of my mouth.
Licking my lips--wrestling my tongue to a standstill.
The taste of his saliva --like the sharpest sweetest nectar.
His arms that wrap themselves around my nakedness.
His hands that never fail to connect to my *****
no matter how dark the room.
His fingers that tease and ****** my throbbing testicles.
My lovely boyman--my lovely lover.
I call him Ben.
His fingers wrapped around the shaft of my stiff ****
like ivy on an ancient wall.
they seem to grasp my ***** member so deeply
its as if they live below my skin.
I call him Ben.
When I kneel in submission to him and lick his *** filled *****
I am elevated into the land of adjectives and superlatives.
When I cringe servilely at his feet licking the full length
of the shaft of his oh so stiff and perfectly shaped *****
I become just a tongue tasting his dried ****.
I call him Ben.
Oh I so love and adore the taste of his dried ****
coating the lavender helmet of his bell end.
When I slide the whole of the head of his hard *****
between my lips filling my mouth completely
I am turned into a human shaped jelly quivering
with the anticipation of swallowing the cream of his pre ***
flowing out of that divine slit.
I call him Ben
When his naked hips ****** his stiff **** down my throat
I feel divinely graced with unconditional love
and I realise he owns me.
I am his ****.
I am his Slave.
I await the whip.
I long for the sharp sting of the lash.
I need the tender chastisement that only Ben can give me.
I call him Ben and he is  my Master.
He tells me stand with my hands on my head
and I immediately comply with his order for I am his Slave.
His very own *******.
There to give him the pleasure he gets from whipping me.
There to offer all parts of my nakedness to the whip in his hand.
Why is Sado-Masochistic love with Ben so lovely?
Why is the pain of his whipping so soft and gentle and tender and stinging?
Why do I stand with stiff **** jutting out and ***** dangling
begging him--beseeching him to take advantage and whip it as he does?
Each stroke of his whip making my **** **** and bounce and sway
turning it red and so mildly painfull?.
I call him Ben and I love him.
Ive loved him for 29 years.
But alas he does not love me unconditionally..
When we are together he humiliates me and I love him more--for his weakness in being the Slave of the Mind and Conditioned Identity.
I love feeling inadequate when I am near to him.
I want him to humiliate me.
To be humiliated is to be humble.
I do not care what people say.
I love him.
I call him Ben.
But oh how I wish wish wish that he were like me.
Mindless and Conditioned Identityless.
He could be such a nice guy if he weren't such an *******.

The terrible thing about poets is we're all sadistic masochists.
We all want to read about heartache, and we all want to write about the demons that haunt us in our worst hours.
We never talk about our happiness, our productive days and nights where we slept enough.
We drown in each other's depression so nicely, a swimming pool of lonely writers, ink pooling around us each because we always carry pens in our pockets.
No one wants to know how happy we are. How our boring mundane human life of doing dishes and vacuuming the carpet went.
We all want to stick the knives in a little deeper, to draw out a little more of each other's blood. Because honestly, our poetry has always been written in blood, sweat, and tears.
That's the thing about poets. We'd rather be miserable and have something to write about than be happy and have nothing to write about.