Dark Poetry From A Twisted Mind
Pain
I've washed my hands
Eleven times now ~
But the dirt won't go away.
I scrub the fingers
Till blood pours out
& down the bathroom drain.
I feel so dirty.
Like some filthy germ
That refuses to die.
Yet I want nothing more
Than to go to sleep
& never again open my eyes.
What cruel punishment
By some unforgiving god.
This life in hell
Without the wealth
Or ecstasy
Sexual.
Tears flow
~ gods I hate that ~
And I lick them off my hand.
I cannot fathom
This torture.
Simply cannot
Understand
Why someone should like
To watch me cry
& agonize & scream.
What kind of twisted person
Would wish upon another
This hellish crazy dream.
I collapse into
A cozy chair
With a sweet vanilla scent.
Drift off to sleep,
I am the child
I was never allowed
To be before.
I sit in silence
Enjoying
A strawberry ice cream cone.
No silly strangers
To talk to on the phone.
Just quiet contemplation.
And a glass of plum wine.
Copyright 2006, 2018
By Insomnia
August 3, 2006
5:07 a.m.
Eleven times now ~
But the dirt won't go away.
I scrub the fingers
Till blood pours out
& down the bathroom drain.
I feel so dirty.
Like some filthy germ
That refuses to die.
Yet I want nothing more
Than to go to sleep
& never again open my eyes.
What cruel punishment
By some unforgiving god.
This life in hell
Without the wealth
Or ecstasy
Sexual.
Tears flow
~ gods I hate that ~
And I lick them off my hand.
I cannot fathom
This torture.
Simply cannot
Understand
Why someone should like
To watch me cry
& agonize & scream.
What kind of twisted person
Would wish upon another
This hellish crazy dream.
I collapse into
A cozy chair
With a sweet vanilla scent.
Drift off to sleep,
I am the child
I was never allowed
To be before.
I sit in silence
Enjoying
A strawberry ice cream cone.
No silly strangers
To talk to on the phone.
Just quiet contemplation.
And a glass of plum wine.
Copyright 2006, 2018
By Insomnia
August 3, 2006
5:07 a.m.
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Pain
Pain
