Chapter 3 Talk is cheap but gags.... by waltb2b, literature
Literature
Chapter 3 Talk is cheap but gags....
Chapter 3: Words Are Cheap but…
As I lay there with the four-way shackle system and the sensory deprivation hood, I'm sure I fell asleep. I was awakened however with this feeling that ants were beginning to crawl all over my chest and of course the only way I could begin to brush them off was to pull my legs up into a fetal position so I could get my hands up high enough to be of some effect. I did this about two or three times and then heard this explosion like the room was collapsing around me. I sat up real fast try to figure out what was when I heard the click of the three locks and felt the straps being loosened.
What the explos
You invented me,
then destroyed me.
You repented me,
and adored me.
You embraced me,
then enslaved me.
You disgraced me,
and depraved me.
You lead me,
then toyed me.
You behead me,
and avoid me.
You dominate me,
then submit to me.
You intoxicate me,
and transmit to me.
And when I needed you...
You left me...
Trust me.
Take my hand,
It's just a simple step
taken at least once before.
Now, take a breath, my dear.
It's been a while, I know.
Have you lost the memory?
Sweet one,
why are you trembling?
You already made the choice; I am here to simply help you along.
Don't look at me that way,
of pain and regret
and need and punishment.
Dancing upon broken happiness and shattered yesterdays.
I was your answer, remember?
You look at me in shock but I can only shrug in response.
I am not the one haunted.
I am at peace as I talk with you; it is you who is tormented by your decision.
You have no right to look at me that way.
But
Blackened More or Less by EatingMyOwnFears, literature
Literature
Blackened More or Less
You caught me.
You marked me.
You painted me.
You blacked me.
I am uncertain if it was your intent but now I feel vulnerable and exposed.
The more you darken, the more I know you see.
I couldn't be any more bare unless I was ripped open.
I'd ask you to tell me what you see but I'm afraid to hear the truth.
Or at the least, any more.
So instead I beg you to paint me again.
Draw your brush across my flesh.
Let me hide behind the black paint which shows me more or less.