Strapped

 

Wrists scarred with crimson lines,

cuts so deep they leave blood on the ground,

the suffering so intense

throat is raw from screams,

but there is no escape

from the constant beatings by hell’s lashes,

an agony that the victim prays for some lethal mercy,

yet it doesn’t come

no matter the moans

that have a raspy death knell tone.

 

In the silence life is wrapped with cut glass ,

insides eaten away by hate’s acid,

how could somebody be so sadistic

and know every nerve that becomes a flame

when aroused by the masterful touch of torture.

 

After sunset the bleeding seldom ends,

nightmares summon the demons

whose putrid and vile images

force vomit from the stomach,

it spills over the naked, bruised flesh,

which the vicious keeper of terror

derives such sick joy

about never allowing to be washed.

 

The body cringes from

all the echoes of macabre memories,

aware that dark will bring

another filet of sanity.

 

And in that hideous cavern

he waits,

ever lamenting his seduction

because he craved to help her need,

never dreaming when he tried to remove her restraints

that she would strapped them on his wrist,

now he pays the price of seduction

unto the gourmet goddess of pure pain.