Satisfaction and Distractions.

PTSS. Don't read if easily shaken.

And if it gets too scary, darlin, open your eyes

for a better view.

But you know, you can never get rid of them.

never ever.

You can't sleep, you're always afraid of that man

that comes into

your small, tidy bedroom. The man that has scarred

your eternally.

And then turned you into a monster.

Blood and brine, hate, solitude, anger, wrath, grief,

anguish and pain;

They all flood into your mind as you try and drift to 

sleep. 

You crave sex like a druggy craves his cocaine.

That man that hurt you for years on end, sneaking

around and treating

you like a sex toy. You poor little girl, he's eaten you

like a dessert. 

Now it's years gone by, and you need it with everything

you have. It's your escape.

You have to feel that insanely pleasurable moment where

everything is dim but your screams

of satisfaction.

You still can't sleep, those nightmares create a shell around

this little word called tranquility.

For when you have those twisted thoughts and memories, they

sprout like weeds and latch onto

other dreams like infected vines, sapping the innocence from

your night-time pleasures.

The vines twist around your throat like a noose, making gurgling

noises as you run and thrash from things

that have already happened, things that will always be and cannot

be undone no matter how hard you try.

Soon after there are scratch marks down your throat and your own

skin under your fingernails,

your writhe and fall into the floor, sweating, screaming, crying and 

sobbing for some God who never helps.

You fight yourself, you know where the knives, the guns, the weapons

are. The razors. The tub you could drown in.

But there's your escape. Find a man, and never sleep again. Stay up all

night, a sex demon, entangled in your furies.

Then you're safe, if you never sleep. You block out those horrid,

grotesque happenings...

And you trade it in for satisfaction and distractions.

You make yourself numb, cut your mind off from the agony of everyday.

And now, it's taken on a mind of

it's own, and unexpectedly goes numb at random times so you can't

feel a thing, can't act like a human being anymore.

And well, this satisfaction. Haha, the distractions...

They bring to life the monster encased within you.

Reviews

[Mr Whiskers]

Thats not bad. I like "But there's your escape. Find a man, and never sleep again. Stay up all night, a sex demon, entangled in your furies." As a whole it sounds more like a monologue, but that section reads like a poem. It is indeed pretty twisted, but also is the story of many victims. The escape is in a similar form of the torture. Keep writing.

[YouoweYoupay]

Such a heart-breaking, haunting tale. I enjoyed it. You express pain and terror very well. Keep writing. 70.

[G. Anderson]

I don't know how to take that.

[Marie Harrison]

What a twist-a-f**k poem!

[MyDarlingsDear]

... wow. Thats... its just wow. I love you Rye, I wish I knew something helpful to say, but I can't......I'm always here for you if you need me, no matter what. I promise.