Batter me like one of your french whores,
blood dripping from a mouth stuffed with vitriol and words that scream of abandonment issues.
Just as He abandoned me, so shall you too
but not before leaving your mark and tainting this flesh like used meat hardly lusted after by the hungriest of predators.
At first waves crashed against these walls with such numbing alacrity,
but the pain seeped into open pores and left behind an insatiable dull ache that pounds away in symmetrical rhythm.
If only there existed a remedy for this disease;
just as the abused return to the hand that beats them, so too shall I accept punishment in desperate hope of receiving earnest validation.
Pessimist Poet’s Words for Thought
“We are taught we can redeem them, she said to me once. We are taught it as soon as we can read. We can turn the beast into a prince, if only we love him enough.” -Louise Doughty