Three themes. Rape, betrayal, and sadness. The first is about rape and kids who rape and kids who hate, yet loved to be forced upon. The second, betrayal and how some may react and feel towards it. The third, my own sadness. Something I wrote when feeling sad and when there was something to actually be sad about.
Rape
I dreamt of disturbed teenagers. Teenagers who thought of death. Who pondered suicide and murder. Whos desires stretched wildly before them without guidance. Teenagers that fantasized of forcing people on their knees and taking them from behind. These adolescents haunted my dreams, screamed for help, yet their screams always came from their victims. Their fears, repulsion, and worst of all, their pleasure. I dreamt of dark dominance and desire. And I dreamt of submission. Falling to my knees, screaming for it to stop, yet also screaming, "more."
I have dreamt of the darkness in peoples hearts and I have seen my own. Both sides are ugly.
Betrayal
If you were to plunge a knife into me, I would not bleed, but shatter. My scream would be the sound of tinkling glass, clattering to the ground. I would not die, but be completely destroyed, becoming nothing more than grains of sand. You must understand the power you hold over me. Your betrayal will not hurt but demolish and it would not awaken anger, but ice. You can easily freeze the blood in my veins and turn my love into powdered snow Trampled and quickly melting away to boiling hatred. Your betrayal can do more than betray.
Sadness
Sometimes you forget that there are other people in the world. Children laughing and playing outside in the sunshine. Sometimes it's just you and your sadness and the screaming voices in the background. The memories are hot and fresh, because it's happening all over again; it is happening. Then there are your tears, rushing down your ugly face and everything is rushing, falling, slipping away into chaos.
Afterwards is the silence, the sound of household appliances chills your heart. Words can not repair damage, because even a whisper can beckon a scream. This is the world I fall asleep in; fragile and dangerous. The ground is tiny grains of glass and the air is toxin. In the morning, when I wake, I will be void of dreams. The nightmares and peaceful sleeps have been stripped from my bed. All is left is a blanket, damp with tears.
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Here We Are, But We're Still Lost
I have spilled my heart on this journal and now I am making it public. I doubt what you will find will interest you much. It's only my battered soul.
Lol, sorry, that was really angst, wasn't it?
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