Ari

The body shakes, trembles,
and whats left resembels plesure.
Perfection or Pain?
Are they screaming,
or moaning out his name?
Lost in ruby extasy,
acid butterfly wings.
Wearing them as contacts,  
blurring the vision.
Eatting away at their conseption,
of plesure.
Imbracing the distroyer as a lover.
Is this sex or mudilation?
Is this proof or a indication,
of the past to demolish,
a cristial clear dirty dimond of a future.
Will you beat me?
Will you feed me?
Will you love me?
Will you keep me?
Will you be there when my past phycoligical issues come out and tare me apart from the inside out?
Keep the crimson swallow it you sadist,
love us like you know how.
Wait you dont.....
You rule and comand,  
the tyrent of our lifes.
Just Fucking Love Us.
But untill our needle point past subsides,
We will wake with self inflicted gashes in our sides.
Begging for our extrodanary pain.
Cuz after a while it all feels like Plesure.