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Literature Text
You pick your favorite tie,
your eyes dark, filled with craving.
Staring at the floor,
I dare not meet your gaze,
Panting,
But terrified all the same.
I hold up my wrists,
And you move swiftly with talent.
I kneel before you,
My blood boiling,
Your fist in my hair.
I tilt my head back,
Your lips,
Scorching my skin.
My vision now compromized,
I feel hollow and lost.
Desire,
Coursing through my veins.
And then it comes,
A single hard blow.
My body wrenches,
My flesh sizzles,
My scream echos.
Beads of sweat,
Cold against my skin,
Collecting in the small of my back.
I know I can do it,
For you my love,
But thirty six more times,
Restores my faith in suffering.
My fragile body,
Now battered and debased,
Covered in cuts and bruises,
The scars of which will never fade.
Tears stream down,
My mascara smeared,
As you stand astride,
Mocking my anguish.
There's a blurred line,
Between pain and pleasure.
My temptation unsatisfied.
I know,
You have nothing more to give,
Of this decadent lifestyle.
your eyes dark, filled with craving.
Staring at the floor,
I dare not meet your gaze,
Panting,
But terrified all the same.
I hold up my wrists,
And you move swiftly with talent.
I kneel before you,
My blood boiling,
Your fist in my hair.
I tilt my head back,
Your lips,
Scorching my skin.
My vision now compromized,
I feel hollow and lost.
Desire,
Coursing through my veins.
And then it comes,
A single hard blow.
My body wrenches,
My flesh sizzles,
My scream echos.
Beads of sweat,
Cold against my skin,
Collecting in the small of my back.
I know I can do it,
For you my love,
But thirty six more times,
Restores my faith in suffering.
My fragile body,
Now battered and debased,
Covered in cuts and bruises,
The scars of which will never fade.
Tears stream down,
My mascara smeared,
As you stand astride,
Mocking my anguish.
There's a blurred line,
Between pain and pleasure.
My temptation unsatisfied.
I know,
You have nothing more to give,
Of this decadent lifestyle.
Literature
Bad for Each Other
He's thirty-eight years old and he's driving his girl back to her home, a dormitory on a college campus. He's twice her age but they make love and rest naked under bedsheets and talk about everything.
With the innocence and naivety of her age she looks at him, eyes bright, smile young. He sort of laughs, and they both must understand the ridiculousness of the situation. But they're addicted to each other and make great art (even though it was just an evening to hang out, not the time to spend the night and fuck and enjoy the company more than they should).
A giggle. "Am I allowed?"
She leans towards him, has a flash in her mind of kiss
Literature
How Dare You?
How Dare you suck out the strength in my limbs?
How Dare you distract me in lectures with a look,
A flicker of interest?
How Dare you smile knowingly at me, as broadly
As the ocean?
How Dare you know I'd do anything for you?
How Dare you wring my heart in my chest ruthlessly,
And make my cheeks burn?
How Dare you call my name, your tongue tethering to it
As if it were your own?
How Dare you?
How Dare you entice my ears with your jokes, your laugh? "You get to hear my
Droning voce," you say as you glance my way.
How Dare you twist my emotions into a salad of anxiety
And anticipation?
How Dare you holster down that which is sava
Literature
Dead Girls
Peel back your skin.
See! Now you look a lot skinnier.
But remember, dead girls are prettier.
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I usually write what comes to my mind without thinking but with this i thought of the topic before and formed the writing around it... feel free to critique..
© 2012 - 2024 hotchillispice
Comments21
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I think this is more about a masochist who sort of tells the sadist what he does and feels. I like how you wrote it