Verbrecher

I feel the angst and the stress, but I do not want it to go. I want it to fester, I want it to grow. I want you to see the blackness’ magnitude, I want you to create a fued. Hit me in my face, uncover my disgrace. Slash my back, peel my flesh. See my pain fresh? I want you to hate me, I want you to confront my differences. Numb my senses, forget the expenses. I have, long ago. I forgot what it feels like to glow. What it feels like to grow, but I do know what it feels like to blow. It’s enough to keep the feelings away, to keep the torture at bay, to make you no longer my prey, to dissipate the images of blood spray. I’m a human, a woman. I need love and affection, but it presents itself in the form of young men’s erections. I struggle to find my connection, my perfection. I need an injection to disentigrate this mental infection. I’m tired and worn, my subconscious torn. I try to speak, but I’m too weak. My words no longer hold meaning, I am not pleasing. Not to you, nor anyone else. No one can comprehend what I have felt. All you see is the pleasure flowing from my forest eyes, and from inbetween my shaking thighs. You hear my voice, but not by choice. To you, I don’t have a soul. I am nothing but a hole. For you to fulfill your physical needs, you proceed with the sexual deed. I don’t see you either, but I beckon you to come hither. I want your heat, I need to be beat. I, you have to conquer. Satisfy my never-ending hunger. You can’t, though. My true nature begins to show. You don’t care, I have you hooked. You can’t forget the way I looked. I will knock you down, I’ll make you drown. You’ll call me two weeks later and sob, your ego I will rob.