SensesWe look out..
What do we see?
We see nothing.
We are blind.
What do we feel?
Our inward battles,
our own defeat.
What can we taste?
And whose is it?
What can we hear?
Whose flesh is searing?
What can we smell?
What are we thinking?
What is it?
The bird in the lakeShe spoke guiltily to her own reflection,
as it returned the gaze of hate and fear.
If only the voice had been heard, understood,
and no efforts wasted
the birds could fly high, carrying an offering to the heavens,
but the gates are closed.
Lost, they will forever fly in confusion,
only making the acquaintance of the bird in the lake.
To them, I am invisibleTo them, I am invisible.
A simple road block between them and their destination.
But strangely, they feel my presence,
they stay away,
they know how far to go.
To them I cannot feel,
I cannot speak,
I am useless.
To them I am nothing.
and to nothing-
Rape MeHurt me..
Blood tastes bitter
found again are the holders of essence,
there to mock me and lavishly conquer your tongue,
Rape the very illusion of my modesty
Put this feast on display,
Cage me in gauze,
Mask the pig-baby
Hide this monstrosity from unseen eyes,
Feed me the meat of jealousy
Take me again,
Throw all sense aside,
drink in the ecstasy of my prudence
Commit the abortion of thrill and remorse,
Cause suicide upon all sensation..
Mask the pig-baby,
Hide this monstrosity,
Drink the pus of my innocence.
UntitledMy eyes are tainted
with the visions of the world.
Even if I stabbed them with the needles,
even if they shed my blood
it wouldn't change what I see.
The masochist draws the steel across her wrists,
quickly holding them beneath the crystal blue.
The blood could flow to the sky
it wouldn't change what she chose.
The boy sits in the corner,
his naked body clothed only by fear and anxiety.
Scars grace his body,
bruises meld it into shape
but even if he were given away
it wouldn't change what he learned.
You are the cause.
You are the inspiration.
the irony behind this life.
You are my vision,
You opened my eyes,
and now you are the very cause of death.
Through my eyesI won't stop until I'm inside you,
I won't cease until this silver blade tastes your scarlet essence of which it hungers
Until its beauty is shed from the gaping wound of which my finger traces down your chest and along your thigh..
Perhaps now you'll see who I am,
Now you'll hear the lust dripping from my voice,
Your screams fill the room but I hear nothing but the sounds of this lustful night.
You look so scared, but soon you'll see it's not that bad.
When you drink your own life, you'll start to feel better
When I peel that face like an apple and make you unfit to be looked upon,
you'll harmonize with death
Isn't it lovely?
silver beads stain your crimson blood as it pours down your neck
Only to be swallowed and flowing a new path down my throat.
Your hands look so lovely, especially when nailed to the carpet beneath, dyed in our blood.
I move down your body, down to your so neglected feet,
It's a shame for you not to share them
This beautiful knife will sever them qui