Wild One

Half hidden in the dark she is perfect. Silver moonlight reflecting off cream skin and midnight hair. She is tangled in the sheets, staring darkly into my eyes. Maybe she knows what I'm thinking. Maybe she knows I'm glad for the shadows. Glad I cant see the shiny scars that pattern her wrists and stomach and legs. Maybe not. Maybe she is just begging me to begin.

Finger tips on fire tracing cold liquid skin. A blazing trail of territory claimed, shapes memorised, and silent thoughts. In the dark I hear her breathing. Soft, shallow, steady breathing. I feel her trembling in anticipation, waiting for my next move, my next touch, my next unspoken word.
Without thought her body responds. There is power in my finger tips. With the smallest bit of skin I control her. With a millimetre of movement I captivate her. With the slightest pressure I enslave her.

I escape her eyes and kiss her. With a fistful of her hair I hold her down as I pull back. Her body arches up against me and I know she is truly mine. With lips and teeth and tongue I torture her. Tease her with touch but pull back before she has enough.

The tempo changes. Her need is savage. Her eyes are fire burning my name. I give in to that stare and make her glad she came. She wants me and needs me like never before. This time it's different. This time it's real.

She is all shallow breathing and tangled hair. All forgotten vows and broken promises. All mine.
I tie her up in ribbons and write my name across her skin. Smear the memory between our sweaty bodies. I hold her close and know she needs me closer. I pull her into myself so she forgets she even exists. With each moment I claim her and tame her. Break her open to keep her whole. Dissolver her into dust and release her to the air. I let her escape this heavy breathing and whisper her name so she keeps from screaming. I paint her skin with violent love to keep her heart from bleeding.

Hear the Children Crying

Laying in bed I hear it.
I hear the children cry.
Crying for a mother,
who never said good bye.

Voices in the darkness,
loud, and strong, and true.
Convinced that she will return
just like she used to do.

I hear the children crying,
for a mother far away.
perhaps if she could hear them,
she would try harder to stay.

I hear the children crying,
who want naught but to not be alone.
I hear them crying for a mother,
who is never coming home.

Screaming

I am sitting on the floor beside you. Your breathing is shallow, ragged. The air through the window is freezing. Too cold for spring. The glass is broken. I cannot close it. You are freezing.
Patting your hair I feel the short coarse bristles. They irritate my skin. But how can I stop? How can I stop when this might be making you feel just the smallest bit better?
I can't stop.

Your neck is twisted horribly. Not broken, just twisted. You hold it there for some reason. Does it make you feel better? Is the pain less when you hold your head like that? It looks so unnatural to me. But how should I know what is comfortable. I have never tried to be comfortable while waiting to die. I wish I could ask you these questions but you wouldn't answer me. I wish you could tell me what I can do to ease your pain. The only sound you make now is screaming. Screaming and that shallow, ragged breathing.

Do you want it to be over? Should I have let them kill you painlessly, or were they right, do you deserve the chance to try and fight through this? I have no idea what to do. No matter what I do it is the wrong thing. If I let you die I would always wonder if you might have pulled through. When you don'd pull through I will hate myself for every extra moment of suffering that my weakness caused you.

"I'm sorry" I whisper quietly. The only thing I have left to say. The thing I have said to so many before you. The thing I will some day say again. Those two words break me. They contain all the mistakes, all the sorrow, all the death that I have ever faced. I know this isn't my fault, but I'm still sorry.
So so sorry.

Looking Back

An empty road, a fallen tree, a twisted fence
crippled by the decay of time.
The rutted track calling out
for you to walk alone.
A broken chair. The paint is peeling slowly and the ornate steel is rusted
Its past was beautiful.
Tilting towards the track,
you can see the past but you cant go back

Monsters

Sunshine Girl

Sunshine Girl I see you,
with your hair of liquid gold.
Walking slowly by me,
such a beauty to behold.

Sunshine Girl your laughter,
it's ringing in my ear.
your summer morning melody,
such a joy to all who hear.

Sunshine Girl I'm smiling,
to be spending time with you.
Even just with being friends,
my dreams have now come true.

Sunshine Girl please share my life,
the good moments and the bad.
Let me love and support you,
and give you all you never had.

Sunshine Girl I love you,
I see the spark of light within,
I'm asking will you marry me?
Let our lives together begin.

Sunshine Girl I love you,
more with every passing day.
You smile and I smile,
together we will stay.

Sunshine Girl, a baby!
With golden hair like yours.
Our perfect gift from heaven,
a girl who everyone adores.

Sunshine Girl stop leaving,
stop pulling back away.
Please let your light keep shining,
by my side please stay.

Sunshine Girl where are are you?
The dark has covered up your light.
I swear to god I'll find you,
I will not give up this fight.

Sunshine Girl I need you
your daughter needs you too.
Please stay with us darling
from the clouds you must break through.

Moonlight Girl you took her,
blood from skin you tore.
Now laying in the darkness
my sun will sleep for ever more.

This Shadow Life - Crying and baths

People say that crying is a good thing. That it releases endorphins and relaxes you because you get all that emotion out of your system. Baths are supposed to be good too, but to be perfectly honest I find both things useless in my day to day life and dealing with depression.

As some of you might have guessed from my posts, I suffered a trauma and now I have trouble feeling emotion. 

People have suggested that I need to let it all out and have a good cry. That it will unstopper my emotions and I'll be able to feel again. People also suggest relaxing reflection in a bath. 

To my rational self these ideas make sense and in the abstract they seem like a great idea. But then it comes to actually doing it. 

Now, I have a lot of things I could cry about but I don't really cry about them normally. So, when I want to go on a crying jag, I have to really work up to it. It's like running the bath. 

Then I get into it. 

I sit and cry or sit in the bath and reflect but then I think "now what?"

I'm just going through the motions really. The physical act alone achieved nothing for me and it all just feels like such a waste of time. There are so many more productive things I could be doing. I don't get anything out of crying or baths. So what's the point? 

There is none. 

Crying and baths have no value for me. 

I'll have to try something else...,

Suggestions?