This Is Where It Starts.....

bound from within these insepid thoughts trickle down past the punctures made by the barbed wire around my brain.
flowing through my eyes as the man in the window slowly inches his way past into another secret version of his own hell,he is just a lonely passenger of the void, caressing himself awkwardly until i stare him straight in the eye and ask if he wants to watch me suffer.
he slowly nods as if his acceptance of the treat he has been offered is nothing but one of the many trivialities of his pathetic,mundane life he presses himself against the window pane, the glass rattling slightly with each fractional movement.i want him to acknowledge my pain, to witness it, to feel it for me. maybe then i can feel it too through some fucked up cross-wired empathetic telepathy.as the master enters and shuts the door i turn my head in deference to his obvious masculinity. he is much more powerful than i, his hands gripping the handle on the top shelf of the dresser......