Cruel Obsessions
we all have them. needs, fears, insecurities...a clinging to the familiar...
i am aware of my obsessions. as most of us are. yet why do we not change them? why do we need this familiarity in our lives? i can't stop thinking about smoking. all i want is something in my mouth, in my hand, toying with the hunger, and the dizziness that accompanies that first cigarette of the morning on my gurgling, moving empty stomach. how i feel i might not make it to that first class as i collapse down those first stairs. lying there for once the mind settled and peaceful because i was done. reeking of cigarettes there i would lie at the bottom of those forsaken stairs, blood draining slowly and further away from me...taking with it those memories, fears, and dependencies. i would finally be a non- smoker as my blood left, nicotine filled- filled with love, filled so much anger, filled with so many thoughts and desires.
my obsessions- morbid, hidden and so very violent underneath all of this caring and compassionate front. it bottles up so much and then when i break i fear the results. i have bruised my body so badly, joints ache and swell blood breaks over the skin, yet all i want is more. more, fill me with the pain- fill me with the badness i deserve. don't you understand? we seek that release of blood, because we are repenting. that blood is our confession. confession to our darkest obsessions. to our secret perverseness we are finally free. will anyone love us if they knew the entire truth? will they love that twisted, sickening side? the side that dreams about being raped by my father. the side can actually feel him inside me, vomit rising with each thrust. i can feel the bile, the oh so excruciating and beautiful putrid fluid of my insides. rising and rebelling from this invasion of my body. i have to hold back. i cannot force it with my fingers. i cannot scratch and claw my obsessions out of me. there they stay. hidden. hidden from your clinging, raping eyes.
i am aware of my obsessions. as most of us are. yet why do we not change them? why do we need this familiarity in our lives? i can't stop thinking about smoking. all i want is something in my mouth, in my hand, toying with the hunger, and the dizziness that accompanies that first cigarette of the morning on my gurgling, moving empty stomach. how i feel i might not make it to that first class as i collapse down those first stairs. lying there for once the mind settled and peaceful because i was done. reeking of cigarettes there i would lie at the bottom of those forsaken stairs, blood draining slowly and further away from me...taking with it those memories, fears, and dependencies. i would finally be a non- smoker as my blood left, nicotine filled- filled with love, filled so much anger, filled with so many thoughts and desires.
my obsessions- morbid, hidden and so very violent underneath all of this caring and compassionate front. it bottles up so much and then when i break i fear the results. i have bruised my body so badly, joints ache and swell blood breaks over the skin, yet all i want is more. more, fill me with the pain- fill me with the badness i deserve. don't you understand? we seek that release of blood, because we are repenting. that blood is our confession. confession to our darkest obsessions. to our secret perverseness we are finally free. will anyone love us if they knew the entire truth? will they love that twisted, sickening side? the side that dreams about being raped by my father. the side can actually feel him inside me, vomit rising with each thrust. i can feel the bile, the oh so excruciating and beautiful putrid fluid of my insides. rising and rebelling from this invasion of my body. i have to hold back. i cannot force it with my fingers. i cannot scratch and claw my obsessions out of me. there they stay. hidden. hidden from your clinging, raping eyes.