Tag Archives: masochist

insensitive

today i slammed

my thick dumb head

on the hard concrete wall

until it bled and bled

because i was just bored

because i felt dead

because i’m too impatient

and made of pure lead

but it wasn’t as cool

so i moved on to needles

stab sharp pricks on my hand

as i made up a riddle

and the red lighter, it did

such an amazing job

it was quite a burn—literally

and these blisters i’ll have

for the rest of my life

just like the scars i made

all from yesterday and today

with the edge of my blade

no, i don’t like the abuse

i just like the pent-up violence

and if i had to take it out

better me than anyone else

so fucking call me masochistic

it’s not like i’d feel insulted

or maybe i will—try me

if that works, good job, friend

‘cause i’m just too numb

and the pain is only fun

when you stop caring about everything

and start aching for the gun.

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blood on my hands

Watched you bite into the bottle
Watched me kick out the chair
Let you chew up the glass
And laughed as you just hung there…

~*~

attacking

the white walls

’til my shivery

senseless knuckles

blossom into

myriad riots of

heliotrope and scarlet,

painting my fist

with burgundy blots

and cacophonic

screams of potent

mercilessness

splattering the

wall with brutality

and upset red

and an anger that’s

feeding on the migraine

at the back of my

artery-bursting temple

harsh primal senses

overtaking all of

my rationality

the adrenaline nearly

stopping my heart,

nothing but blind fury

exhausted from all sides

of this violence

i can see your face

on the goddamn wall

i don’t want to stop trying

to knock some sense

into your hallucination

of your childish disillusion

for every time

skin kisses asphalt

and soft collides with solid

it’s a tally of just how

fucking stupid you are.

i’ll keep on punching

and seething and pounding

and tearing flesh,

hoping that soon enough

one of us will just stop

trying to be a masochistic

fucker and cease such

useless punishment

and i only pray

that it will happen

all before the lusting metal

reaches your strung vein

and snaps it in half

turning the blood on my

hands into more than

just a literal connotation;

or before the grinding concrete

reaches my fragile bones

and breaks it apart

turning the damage into

more than just

a wall.

~*~

I lost my head
You couldn’t come
This lust to my brain
Almost feels like a gun…

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Masochist

you’re

ruining

my

life

and

i

love

every

minute

of

it.

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Filed under Poetry