Pulse pounding erotic bloodlust,
Simulated sadism sustaining vicarious power
Heart sick, hollow, sexual submission
Combustion, stamen, pistol and flower.
Body and blood tasting,
Seductive sad smiles that stimulate
Rational animals seeking suffering
Suffer me slowly, so I may pollinate.
Shall I be the stamen or pistol?
Should I say what I’m trying to say?
Should separations, so separate us?
Shall I pretend that I’m only playing?
Will you give me, give up everything?
Will you make me, take me all away?
Can I hold you, hurt you in my arms?
Can I thrust you, trust you all the same?
Desperate tears for our garden,
Tender kisses for our wounds,
Knives for our fresh lacerations,
Sleep for our comfort, entombed.
Do you see what I’m trying to say?
How much this, is really me?
Are you enjoying my display?
Is this how it’s better to be?
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