Screams from my Bleeding Utrus






Sweet Surrender

Her only strength was her compulsive obsessions, a toxic biological defect that’s survival was founded on the constaninsecuritycy of her manic urges that further fed her poisoned reality. Long ago I was intimate with her, loyally attached to her cause even before I knew there was a cause to dedicate myself to. The exact hour she embarked upon my life is hauntingly obscure; a memory so distant I’m not even sure who entered who’s life first and for the vagueness of that matter it seems, she has always been here. I was drawn to the delicate vulnerability she displayed during our first moments together. I’d get lost peering right through her doey-eyed stair of infinite uncertainty and emptiness. This uncertainty was enduring and so wickedly alluring one day it managed to penetrate right through me and fuse us together. The illusion of us as one gave her permission to possess me and without my consent we were happy. Like many stories of  youth, I habitually accepted this dangerous idea not knowing consent was in my possession, consent was a powerful weapon.  The problems in our relationship arose when I started to become uncomfortable from the tight bind we were entrapped in  and so I proposed a series of even more uncomfortable questions. I found simple questions made her itch because they threatening her sanity which rapidly destroyed her validity causing her to concave and then explode out with vengeance. Like all secrets her existence thrived on the unconscious mind and as the best of  irony would have it, I found she too was unaware of this. Years have passed since we officially parted ways. Our funeral began the day I set drew the fine line but still a line.  This line supported my theory on the idea of us existing entirely separate entities. Since this declaration I’ve been free, no longer buried in the same fatal reality she drowns herself in, at least not for long. Now, she is so compelled to own me her innocence has been consumed by jealousy, hatred and inferiority. No longer delicate and beautiful she has transformed herself into provocative whore and in this suit can seduce me. He sweet sultry whispers entice my rationality and stimulate the pleasure centers of my slobbering brain. The exhilaration of her twisted tango is carried inside the rhythm that sways between the moment our eyes make contact and right before I kiss her smirking pout. The moment I taste the formaldehyde seeping from her parted lips, I am momentarily depleted and if nothing else she finds amusement in owning this. I find amusement in fact that I know she exist and that she is not me. 


I often wonder if I will always be a temporary victim of her permanent games. I wonder who is trying to possess who and quickly remember that concerning myself with this relentless issue is just another means of how I trick myself into volunteering for “the cause” , the destruction. I am the chosen ruler of these games simply because I chose. Its counter intuitive to detach from things you don’t want because your first instinct is to destroy them and to destroy you must grab hold. All I’m left to do is pray…

Dear Heart, won’t you melt away, through my arms and into my palms And from there won’t you let your glow melt out even further, into the earth below, letting go and allowing me to stay here.






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