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Corrupted

Contributed by FleurdeSang on Monday, 14th November 2005 @ 06:58:06 PM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry






My hands look like claws.


Black and bent


t.a.t.t.e.r.e.d.


Like the feeble muscle whispering emptiness in my chest,
Pumping death into my dry veins,
As your tongue plunges deeper into these wounds
you’ve lovingly inflicted…





~
How delectable… this desire to be desecrated…
~




Sweet, erotic pulp of adolescence,
A rose blooming from the crack in your skull,
A delicate cup of crimson eyelids adorning your head,
Like a crown of feathers and nails,
Of beauty and decay…



Celestial child, let me taint you with my eyes of amber sorrow,
Amid lustful flames and black ashes of legends once known…




Oh, let me touch you, innocent,
Let my fingertips of singed passion quench my twisted thirst
For supple, cherubic flesh…

Let me rape your tender skin with decadent hands, luscious youth,
So I may possess at least a meager piece of purity
Something I used to be…




{{Wretched… vile… malignant girl…
You’re just like your father…}}




Be silent.

Stop trembling.

(((( S L A P ))))

Darling, I love you…

[[[…TOUCH…]]]

Repulsive being, I loathe you…

Let me ravage you…

I’ll be gentle…

Don’t you understand?

I’m doing this for your own good!





WHY ARE YOU CRYING?!






You’re whimpering in your corner of dying light,
Your tears are dripping in unison with your weeping wounds,
I sip your pain with perverse gratification,
As you recklessly grasp at something in your withered pockets…



There is no hope in that rosary you bind your hands with, mi cielo…


I whisper Ecclesiastes as I fondle you.


You’re quite fidgety, my dirty little worm.




My eyes are a shade darker than the blood that runs freely from you,
Your angelic face is barely recognizable now,
Mangled arms and torn flesh, my corroded pet,
Divine colors and tastes of disturbing proportions as I feast upon you…



I can’t help but believe with growing agony and searing guilt,
The voices that whisper the horrid melody


Just like your father…

Just like your father…

Just like your father…

Just like your father…



Just like… me.




Copyright © FleurdeSang ... [ 2005-11-14 18:58:06]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: Corrupted (User Rating: 1 )
by fake_emptyness on Monday, 14th November 2005 @ 07:32:50 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
very, very powerful, thought provoking, and sets your mind to see images of that you'd never hope to see. i loved it!! so pure and yet has this morbid twist....


Re: Corrupted (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Tuesday, 15th November 2005 @ 01:02:17 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
The sins of the father stay where they belong with the father, as 4 u my friend a poem of
magnificent validity, deep yet noticeable among the mundane, powerful yet ironicaly
delicate , u r the epiteme of gienus and that's putting it mildly, disguised as an mere poet who yet cannot hide her brilliance and astoundding gifts she brings 2 the readers of these pages, Bravisimo, you are most deserving of all the praises that come your way.


((((((((((((Stephy))))))))))))

Ben


Re: Corrupted (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Tuesday, 15th November 2005 @ 05:02:39 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)


  • Ah, very dark, sent chills up my spine!

    Brilliantly penned, you have a flair for the dark world. ;)

    Loved the twist at the end, too.

    Keep writing!



    ~KayT





  • Re: Corrupted (User Rating: 1 )
    by SensitiveSoAbused on Tuesday, 15th November 2005 @ 06:50:36 PM AEST
    (User Info | Send a Message)
    I've never been more affected by any poem in my life then by this one. I was ***** up for hours. I wrote a poem of my own about it. It sent me reeling and twitching and junked right out.
    It hurt my stomach with knots and razor blades, and my heart as if run down by a garbage truck.
    My hands trembled and my face contorted; my arms ached to feel you.

    I've only read it once, and I feel that I may not be ever able to read it again, for the torturings I feel from it, I will have the audacity to speculate may be quite as strong as yours, though given, to a different effect.

    This stanza is beautiful:

    Sweet, erotic pulp of adolescence,
    A rose blooming from the crack in your skull,
    A delicate cup of crimson eyelids adorning your head,
    Like a crown of feathers and nails,
    Of beauty and decay…


    I love you.

    When you die, you'll be in my arms. Your ears will hear sonnets of sweet birdsong of twinkling tears on my cheeks; my lips tasting yours and so consumed I am with you, I will bury myself alive with you to sleep with you eternally.

    You will decay slightly sooner than I, I'll protect you from those dirty little worms until I close my eyes upon your breast and invite them all to me...






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