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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Dark · #1651111
Masochistic fantasy... note, I am not a masochist.
I'm tied to the wall by padlocks and chains,
Skin falls apart, you caressing my veins,
Under my ribs and into my soul,
The hole in my chest now becomes full.

The siren you are, yet silent your lips,
You speak to me only with nine-tailed whips,
Against my shoulder blades, your file will grind,
In this dark sound your words I can find.

Your cold skin on mine,
Asking if I’m fine,
You look for a sign,
Were you out of line?
My burnt skin on yours,
My body is gore,
To my love I implore,
May I ask for more?

Bring to me pain, in that I find pleasure,
Rip through my soul at your own leisure,
Sent into Heaven, but I'm going to Hell,
With your loving embrace, I exit my shell.

You cleanse my sins with a hot candle fire,
Under my skin you run sharp razor wire,
The smell of my flesh, torn, burned, and bruised.
Allows my spirit to finally come loose.
© Copyright 2010 Jason Daniel Baker (jasonbaker at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1651111-Darkest-Dream