No title.

“Life is pain, princess. Anyone who says different is selling something.”

This is strange.
A concept unknown.
To stumble so far,
To land in this hole.

But it’s pretty here.
The darkness has it’s rosy tinge.
Pulsing with the beat of a heart.
Enough to make the poets cringe.

Some call it silly,
But I see it rather somber.
To tread through the thicket
See how deep I can wander.

There’s a fog between the trees
Its heavy and gripping.
Never thought this is where I’d be.
Even as my steps are slipping.

This is pain,
Enveloping and creeping
An agony the forest knows
The heart of wood now weeping.

These few little things

I’ll be quite content
To watch you.
But I wonder,
If I may just touch.

You see, these fingertips,
They itch to feel.
Nothing smooth and sweet,
But the scars and the sweat.

Let me listen
To every scrap of words you’ll throw.
The horror and pain
And the joy that you’ve known.

These few little things,
But I’ll ask for a taste.
Of your skin and your sex
And your sleep as you wake.

Vs. What I know now…

Never knew
Of what you could be
Never knew
That I would succumb so completely

In that crook that could mean nothing but a warm body
That I would find a world never imagined.
It fills the throat and chokes
It tangles in hair and holds firm
Eyes fighting to open
To see every facet of a being.

Never knew
Of what I was.
Never knew
A shoulder told so much.

A casual touch, a habit never consciously harbored
Eliciting a need to control I never knew I garnered.
A firmer grasp, hold tighter, hold harder.
The clench and despair and a gag on sensation
Addiction revealed in desecration.

Never knew
Of this affliction’s existence
Never knew
I’d find you in repentance.