His words opened wounds that scathed her soul, digging deeper with each dagger that dripped from his tongue. Her heart his canvas, she ripped her chest wide, begging him to take what was left. Carnivorous with greed, he slowly picked at the flesh, knowing that the pain he would cause could be the masterpiece she sought. As his night meets the dawn like her heaven meets his hell. Two souls bound together forever, she waited to be once again drunk from his selfish desires.
In the depths of nowhere, there is a little madness in us all. Close your eyes and take a step into your own soul. The only way to find peace is to drown the ghosts that haunt your dreams. Alice chased the rabbit, and I chase the pain, is it the madness that consumes us all in the end or the fear of being normal?
As the skies cry, my heart embraces the cleaning of the soul. Walk into the showers of sorrow and allow the heavens above to remove your sins, washing them from your flesh. No church is needed when Mother nature lines them up for her baptism. Allow the sprinkles of hope to soothe the inner turmoil that rains upon us all.
As I sit her today feeling overwhelmingly sad about the world around us, life, and loss, this song comes to mind. The one line that catches my breath in the back of my throat is “A heart that’s been broken is a heart that’s been loved.” I often wonder why me, why does my heart hurt when I think of loss, it’s because I was loved. My heart was loved so deeply that the loss still aches all these years later.
Like a whore in church, the eyes of the world are upon me each Sunday. Women casting stones, and men, well they all wish they could be my next victim of lust driven rage. As I stand before the world dropping the weapon of words, my body is the canvas to each will create their masterpiece of hate.
John 8:7 – So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.
The little box on the edge of the table always was a lure to me. All of my life, I wanted just once to take a peek inside of the dark oak box. My mother cringed each time I walked by and ran my fingers over the handcrafted wood. Each time I asked her what was inside, she told me to mind my own business and leave it alone. When you’re a kid, that drives you insane with wonder. Sadly, now that I’m grown, I still can’t get the box out of my head.
Warning: This writing contains sexual situations and blasphemy.
It’s no mystery that I find the taboo of Blasphemy to be erotic. Not for the fact that it’s taboo, but because it’s filthy. Part of me knows writing will send me to hell, but I don’t fear that anymore. Rumor has it; all the best people will be waiting for me. I guess I embrace my darkness more than I should.
Long breath drew in as my body arched upwards. Screams catching in the back of my throat, a flood escapes between my thighs. Once again, the sins of the flesh have captivated my Sunday morning. Dribbles of dew falling from my slender digits, my tongue stretched to take in the communion of my sins. There is no better healing then self-love.