My brain is broken.
I can’t write,
I can’t read,
I can’t fuck.
My mind is filled with many thoughts,
Some useless and many horrifying.
Is this the death of my creative mind?
Is this the death of my erotic nature?
Oh, how I wish
I could cut open my head,
Pull out my brain,
And squeeze the content onto the white pages.
I need to feed my desire,
I need to feed my readers,
I need to feed my obsession.
I saw a dead raven today.
It was night and I was rushing to get to my bus
And I almost stepped on it.
Its body was upright,
Legs pointing to the trees above.
In the trees,
Many ravens stood as if to blend into the dark sky.
My first reaction was shock.
My second reaction was sadness.
My third reaction was peace.
Once the calm of the situation set in within me,
The ravens from above began to cry.
It was a heartbreaking cry, but it soothed me.
Like the sweet voice of a baby’s mother, cooing and cooing.
Oh, how I pity that raven
For dying in peace with their fellow kin surrounding and mourning them.
The raven is apart of the sky now
And soon be apart of the earth.
Is it sad? Yes.
Is it disturbing that I found the idea of a dead raven on the sidewalk calming? Yes, indeed.
But, it’s just have I make peace with the world and the things going on within it.
I had a dream,
A dream where I was your wife.
Where your hands were on my waist
And my spine was bent
In your favorite position.
Your hands are glued to my throat
While I try not to scream.
I had a dream,
A dream where you were comforting me.
Where your hands caressed my hair
And my eyes filled with tears
That eventually slide down my face.
Your mouth is whispering sweet sounds
While I am spiraling out of control.
I had a dream,
A dream where you were killing me.
Where your favorite blade pushed through my organs
And my body was motionless
And weak to your attack.
Your body locked over me
While I slowly lost consciousness.
And it was the best dream
I’ve ever had.
As a child,
I would prefer to spend a lot of time alone.
My parents thought it was quiet odd
And would often check on me.
Unknown to them,
I was never alone.
The woman in the corner would be there,
Watching.
It scared me at first,
But over time,
I began to accept her presence.
She would stroke my hair
While I was asleep.
She would wipe my tears
While I cried about a worthless boy.
She would listen to my pleas
While I cried and begged for death.
She was there
During my loneliest moments
In youth.
And she’s here
During my proudest moments
In adulthood.
You said you didn’t love me.
You said you had no ill feelings for me,
But that you
Didn’t
Love
Me.
I just couldn’t understand the idea of you not loving
me
When I’ve loved you my entire life
And beyond.
Now, I’m stand
In your kitchen
With your beating heart
In my hands.
Your body lies still on the clean tiles.
I give your heart a squeeze
As I admire the sweet gift you have given me.
I’m sorry, my love.
I just couldn’t
Take
The
Rejection.
I hope you can love me
Now
That I have your heart
In my loving hands.
Baby, you are mine.
Your soft tongue slowly traces my honey covered lips.
My body curves and twists to fit perfectly into yours.
The honey turns into blood as your sharp teeth bite deeply into my lips,
Causing the lips between my thighs to heated up
And squeeze together.
You let out a small grunt and soon your blood begins to pool in your mouth as I pierce you with my knife.
My excitement increases as the pool of blood overfills and flows into my mouth.
You begin to fight back, but you are fixed into my arms.
“Please, no.”
Your begging begins to lead me to climax as your body becomes weaker by the second.
The thought of taking and inhaling your life, your soul into mine is arousing.
Your spirit is exiting your body and I prepare to take it
And entangle it with mine.
You are mine, my dear.
You are mine in every single way and beyond this world,
You will continue to be mine.
I just wanted answers.
I wanted to know why you would cause a soft being like myself
So much internal pain and heartbreak.
When you arrived,
You just couldn’t give me the answers I wanted.
“It was a mistake.”
“You are a beautiful and amazing woman.”
“You deserve better.”
“I told you I didn’t want anything serious.”
Only the same, lame, excuses men always give
When they fuck up and don’t want to be accountable.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I wanted to hurt you the same way you hurt me.
After a struggle and a few punctures,
You were on the ground, slowly bleeding out.
Your beautiful blue eyes were now bloodshot and filled with fear.
I couldn’t help, but to caress your face.
You flinched at my touch,
Which turned me on.
A sinister smile creeps onto my face as I grip your face,
Making eye contact.
I turn your head to reveal a small slit on your neck made during the fight for dominance.
I admire the cut as I continue to get aroused by your weakness and you continue to be fearful of my next moves.
Without thinking, I lean forward and I can feel your body clench beneath mine.
I tap my tongue on the cut before putting it fully on.
My tongue swirls around the spot before I begin sucking.
I notice your heart is beginning to beat faster and you are no longer clenching.
I never had this craving before and I can’t help, but to continue sucking
As this is the ultimate pleasure.
Once I am fulfilled, I removed myself from the slit and observed him.
He laid there, looking as lifeless, pathetic and useless as ever.
He was dead
And I finally got the closure I was yearning for.
What amuses you, my dearest reader?
Do you enjoy hearing about my own pain and delusions?
Do you like hearing about my psychotic breaks?
Let me give you one.
Sometimes, I hate my mind.
I hate the things I create and play out in mind.
But I love the feeling of it.
The feeling that I possess the power to harm someone,
To harm myself.
Sometimes, I imagine myself in full on tears,
Dripping down my face onto my thick brown thighs.
I am facing a wall, a strong, brick wall
And I see myself driving my head into the wall.
I continue doing this, with all my strength,
Again,
And again,
And again,
Until my blood is painted on the wall
With pieces of my sweet, brain matter scattered along the piece.
My forehead is flattened and I’m dizzy.
My tears have stopped and a smile is born.
My joy is overwhelming as well as my pain.
I faint, into death or into sleep, from it.
Sometimes, I get the urge to rip my entire face off.
To feel my long, pointy nails pierce my skin.
To feel the skin gather under my nails
As they drag down my face,
Along my chin,
And down my neck.
Sometimes, I have the urge to hurt someone.
Not physically; that would be too easy.
I want to feel the energy shift and
the pause to process what I have said.
I want to see the disbelief in their eyes,
The heartbreak in their heart.
The reaction, no matter what it is, to my actions.
Sometimes, I have the urge to tear open my chest.
To pull apart my breast and dig through the skin and flesh
Until I reach my ribs.
I want to crack each bone, pull back my lungs
And grab my sweet, beating heart.
And I want to detach it from my body and admire it.
Then, I will press my thumbs into it,
Feeling through the soft, plushy material until I reach the center.
I want to stare into it and caress it before I faint from
The overwhelming joy and blood loss.
The sun torched my skins,
Warming my cold soul
As I soak in the pool.
Red droplets begin to discolor the water.
I glare at your paling body.
The blood is slowing draining from you,
Causing the pollution in the pool.
I let out a sigh,
I need to clean up this mess.
God, I knew I should’ve fed you to the farmer’s pigs.
The Paramour 