The piercing pain of my fathers razorblade,
satisfies my icy layered heart
The contact with the sharpness on my skin
is orgasmic, knowing that i'm in control,

The feeling is a sick compassion
Like two immortal souls connecting,
Like a sparrow, overjoyed with its prey
Like the killers murder of the innocent

I cannot compare this passion to anything,
It's more than euphoria
More than orgasmic
More than pride

Pride
Pride
Is just something I cannot feel
No matter how much I long to

Love
Love
Something I will never understand
Too humiliating, too catastrophic

Hate
Hate
I live for hate; the negativity shoots through my veins
The tears, the angst of an enemy pleasures

RATE THIS CHAPTER!