Diary of the Lost

Contain this energy safely inside.
Sometimes I can feel the warmth of my simmering anger grow within like the spreading tingling sensation of your first taste of Vodka.
Life is hard to swallow...
Believe in what...anymore...?
In love? But love is so frail.

The seeds have been stitched into me.
And now to dust I remain unearthed.
Rain drops falling on my blighted ground...
...But here I still remain untouched.
Burn the flame brighter inside me.
I can understand your need to taint.
...Can understand the possessiveness of your intention.
And I love you still the same...
...Scratch me...hit me...bite me...
I enjoy it.
Bruises or blue, green and yellow and black swell upon my arms and back.
When I awake I feel where your teeth stole my flesh...
...I cannot remember whether when I first stretch in the morning I smile at the memory of pain...or wince at the unforgettable "luxury" of it.
Either way tis the same to me...
I am not alone when you are with me.
I am, however, alone when you are not.
There are things worse then a bruise...things worse than having blood taken from your broken soul.
And I have survived it all.

I guess the reason why I enjoy a moment's physical pain is because...
...It is a reminder that I have lived through so much and retained strength to move on.
Forget the people who hurt me?
Never.
Forget how they pierced my skin with such cruelty?
Absolutely not.
Why would I want to forget the very thing that founded my personality?
No one ever truly forgets in the first place.
So there.
I'll leave it at that...this pathetic diary entry made for a corpse.
Goodbye.