Hurt

You want it to hurt.
If there is pain
you can pretend
you suffered
through such torture.
But you never can
fool yourself completely
silence the voices -
hateful, mocking, vile -
nipping from inside.

So you make it hurt
mix pleasure with pain
until it's all you need
and the only way you feel.
If guilt were matches,
baby, you'd be a bonfire
and light yourself aflame.
It burns when you stop
and you never could say no.

Want hurt
pretend suffering
fool silence
voices mocking
inside screaming

pleasure pain
need away
guilty matches
baby aflame
never stop

~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~

Yes, I'd like the baked ode with cyclic sauce. Can I get a side of octaves with that? <-- More Poetry