Sunday, May 23, 2010

Confessions of a Tortured Man

It's the chair again, oh
how I longed for
this to happen

You strike repeat, strike repeat
not knowing that I like being
at your feet, for
here is where I feel home.
In the heavens of hell.

With joy I let you prick my hands.
With joy I pretend being one of your fans,
just so you won't stop
before the climax

I spill it all, every last drop.
I like its color, glistening in
the light from your eyes, in
those eyes I despise, eyes that
put me to rest.




Image from: http://browse.deviantart.com/?qh=§ion=&q=chair#/d114l9g

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