Forever A Little Girl

She is forever a little girl

Crystallized in the body

Of an adult woman

She is achingly sweet

And filthy at the same time

Exuberant in her desire

To pleasure and satisfy

The kindred souls

That she meets along

The dark path of life



Just another meaningless fuck

In the desperate attempt

To feel something other than pain

He thrusts himself deep inside her

But all she feels is hollowness

And the rampant disappointment

That he is not her sacred angel

Set to save her from the darkness

That keeps her fragile soul captive

To the horrors of the dismal past

Impurity, Filth Of The World

Old story. During my dark phase.~


I am staring down at your figure. It looks so lovely under the pale moonlight. I turn the light on so I am able to see you better. Your pretty figure calls out to me, invites me in. I am enraptured by your beauty. It’s such an intoxicating thing, like a sweet scent in the middle of summer. Smiling, I head upstairs, where I am greeted by another pretty face.

“Hello,” she says.

She holds out her hand to me, and I grin as I take her hand to kiss it. She blushes deeply. My grin widens.

“Finally, we meet my love. I have been waiting for this night for a very long time.”

“You’re so sweet!” She looks down at the ground then looks up at me shyly.

“Would you care for some wine?”

“That would be nice,” she says as she follows me into the kitchen. I take out a bottle of red Chilean wine and two goblets and set them on the table.

“Please, sit down.” I tell her as I pour the rich wine into the cups. As she sits on the chair, I can’t help but stare in wonder at her beauty. Luscious red lips, emerald green eyes, brown hair that is surely as soft as silk. She is almost as beautiful as you, my darling. Almost.

“So tell me about yourself. What are your goals in life? Your aspirations, your dreams. Tell me, I want to know.”

“Well,” she says as she takes a sip of the wine. “I love art. It’s my life, really. I’m not the best painter in the world, but I have been told my pieces are amazing.”

“Really? I love art as well. I would love to see your pieces.”

Eva laughs, taking another sip of her wine. “I’m not anything special, I assure you. Now, if you want to see someone with talent, you should meet my friend Abby. Her works of art are simply extraordinary.”

“Hm. I’ll keep that in mind.” I take a long and delayed drink of the wine, and I shiver as it makes its way down my throat. My fingers are shaky with anticipation. They want to start the job already…

“So what do you do for a living? You look like a really creative person.”

I laugh, pushing my burning desire away for the moment. “I cleanse the world of its impurity. It’s a hard job, but someone has to do it.”

Eva raises an eyebrow playfully as she says, “Now what does that mean?”

I grin. “Whatever you want it to mean.” I suddenly get up and hold my hand out to her. “Would you want to dance?”

She laughs, getting up and taking my hand. “You’re so romantic. Are you sure you don’t have a secret lover around here?”

“Maybe I do.” She laughs again. I go towards the stereo system I have and pop in a CD. Slow, sexy music begins to play. I turn around and place both arms around her waist and bring her close to me slowly. She gasps.

“Is everything okay?” I ask her as we slowly begin to dance.


We dance in silence for the next couple of minutes, savoring the music and the rhythm. She closes her eyes, and as she does that I bring my hands up to cup her elegant face. Quickly opening her eyes, she looks into my own and gently kisses me. I am taken by surprise by her kiss, but nevertheless kiss her back. I am having a good time until she lowers her hand to grab my crotch. I quickly pull away.

“What’s wrong?” she asks in concern. I ignore her and sit down on the sofa, trying not to let my anger out. I am a fool. Every time, I think it’s going to be different. I give them a chance…but they all fail me.

“Babe, I’m sorry if I did something wrong. Please, forgive me.” She sits down next to me, a look of regret on her face. She doesn’t even know what she did wrong and she feels sorry.

I bite my tongue, because I want to say despicable things to her. Instead, I just smile slowly and look at her. She smiles back at me.

“I’m sorry. I just had a rough day.”

She shakes her head. “Maybe I’m going too fast. I apologize.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Besides, shouldn’t I be the one who is supposed to say that?”

She laughs. “You are so right.”

Hope comes back into me. Maybe she is different. Maybe she doesn’t want just sex. Perhaps I can be able to love her, and my search will finally end. My hope disappears as quickly as it came, however, when she straddles me and tries to kiss me deeply. This time, I don’t push her away. If this is what she wants, then this is what she will get. I kiss her with much more force, making her moan in either delight or pain. Her hands run down my body until they reach to my belt, where she tries to unbuckle it. I’ve had enough.

“Hey,” I say as I end the kiss abruptly. “I want to show you something.”

“Is it something sexy?”

“Yes, it actually is. Could you get up for a second?”

“Sure.” She gets up, and I fight back the feeling to hit her with all I’ve got. I am so furious right now, I can’t see straight. Calm down, part of me says. It will be soon.

“Follow me.” I suppress an evil grin as I lead her downstairs to the basement, closer to you. It is dark, but that makes everything so much better. I hold Eva’s hand as I open the door and just stand there before you.

“What’s that smell?”

“Impurity…filth of the world.”

“I can’t see a thing…”

“Let me change that.” I turn the light on, and for a second she winces, blinded by the light. And then she begins to scream.

“Oh my god!!” She tries to get out of the door, but I block it, pushing her back with all my force. She stumbles back into the small room with your decaying body on the floor, and she screams once again in horror. I chuckle.

“What? You’ve never seen a dead body before?”

“Oh my god…OH MY GOD!!!” She tries to get up, but surprisingly slips on the pool of blood that has gathered right below her. It stains her white dress. She gets up, crying, and inches away from you. She is sobbing now, against the wall, trying not to collapse. She looks at me with fear in her eyes.

“Tell me…why is that all the fucking idiot men in the world get the women, and all the men like me don’t?”

“What are you talking about? Please don’t hurt me…please don’t…” She sobs, finally collapsing onto the floor. “Please don’t hurt me.”

I take out the dagger that was hidden in my pocket and begin to stroke it gingerly with a finger. She cries out when she lays her eyes on it, and tries to escape. I stab her on the leg once, making her yell out in pain.She falls on the floor, continuing to cry like a baby.

“I just wish I could know why…what have I done wrong? Why have I been ignored in such a way? Was I born this way? Does anyone give a damn?” I pull out the dagger from her leg, making her scream in what I am sure is excruciating pain. The blood almost immediately spills forth like a river as I watch, mesmerized.

“I am nothing but a toy, used by all of you for your own pleasure. It’s what I am, and what I will always be. But why? Why must it be this way?”

“What is wrong with you?!” She cries out in agony. It makes me laugh.

“What is wrong with me? What is wrong with me? Don’t you think I ask myself that question every night before I go to sleep? What a silly question that is. And yet I ask it myself everyday.”

“Why…are you doing this to me?!”

“What? Am I doing something wrong?” I try not to laugh as I get near her. She whimpers and tries to get away, but soon finds herself nearing your decaying body. How hilarious.

“Would you rather like it dark or like this?”

“No!!! Please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m-”

“They’re ALL fucking sorry!!” I stab her once, in the stomach, and then stab her again and again. The fury comes out in a rush, directly from me to the dagger. I slice her stomach open and stab her chest, not feeling sorry for one second. She quickly dies, and there is blood everywhere, even on me. I place her next to you, and examine you both. You are so much more pretty than her. But in the inside, the both of you are so ugly. It disgusts me. So seeing you dead makes me feel…how can I say it. So happy inside.

Besides, it’s filth like you that ruins the world. If it weren’t for me, we’d be drowning in it. So why feel sorry? Why feel bad. It all has a purpose.

Now, she said she had a friend named Abby…maybe, perhaps, she is the one for me…

Distorted Thoughts

I’m tired of feeling like a meaningless, grotesque waste of space, Cherry thought to herself as she stared at her reflection in sublime disgust. She couldn’t help but feel like a science experiment gone awry; she harbored fat in the worst places, which included the areas under her chin, abdomen and what the internet so lovingly referred to as her fupa. She had a pair of sexy, toned, lithe runner’s legs that did not belong to her along with an upper torso that bordered on anorexic. Her collarbones and ribcage were so pronounced that people were worried about her.

I don’t know how to escape this miasma of self-loathing, Cherry frantically whispered to herself as she stared at her freakish body. The urge to cut herself was overwhelming. The visceral emotional pain that she felt could never amount to the physical pain that she experienced from time to time, whether it be from a stubbed toe to a paper cut. Hell, she even had her left big toe fractured after a mirror fell on it and it wasn’t as horrid for one simple reason: she knew, without a doubt, that the pain was going to cease. This haunting, unrelenting emotional ache, however, had no closure in sight.


The incense hangs heavy in the stagnant air of his bedroom, infiltrating my nose with the heady scent of patchouli. He is laughing, looking handsome in a tailored suit that clings to his fit, sculpted body like a second skin. He doesn’t know that I’m here. Why would he? The music is on loud and the windows are wide open, allowing the cool autumn air into the small bedroom.

A tear slips from my right eye. I gaze at the bed, at the crimson comforter with the fluffy pillows. Rage encapsulates me, threatens to propel me forward to the ultimate act.

He stiffens in his chair. His relaxed posture changes to one that is alert and cautious. I clear my throat and take a step toward him. I don’t need a mirror to know that I look ravishing. My ink black hair is a perfect contrast to my alabaster skin. My makeup is perfect, highlighting my vivacious green eyes and kissable lips.

I could easily toy with him, make him go insane with need. He senses that he is not alone. He slowly turns around and inspects the room. I wish I could say that he sees me and shrieks in horror. But life doesn’t work like that. He returns to his computer in a relaxed state again.

I walk over to the bed, the place where I took my last breath. The crimson comforter felt so soft against my bare skin. It was a complete contrast to the rough urgency of his demanding hands roaming my body. I wanted to say no, but my mouth wasn’t functioning.

Johnny Cash sings “Ring of Fire” as I stare at the bed where he raped and strangled my drugged body. A shriek escapes me, but it’s one that is unheard in the physical world. The candle next to him flickers, but only for a moment. He doesn’t notice. Outside, a siren wails for a few seconds, shrouding my scream of rage.

Beauty In The Filth

Chapter 1

In my dreams, there is so much blood. Blood speckles the white walls, covering the floor, dotting the beautiful, vintage furniture. It’s on me, embedded in my pores, soaking through my clothes and staining my skin. Not even a shower can wash out the pervasive metallic scent of the red liquid. When I lick my lips, I can taste the delicious, scintillating life force in my mouth, making its way down my throat, into my eagerly awaiting stomach.

I have the same dream every night. I should be locked away, but no one would believe me if I told them the truth. One look at me and everyone assumes that I’m just too cute and weak to be capable of biting into someone’s flesh like it’s a candy bar. Or patiently waiting for someone to turn their back so that I can stab them with my sharp butcher knife. I’m a woman. So I automatically get labeled as weak, inferior, and incapable of violence.

If only my coworkers knew of my true sadistic nature. No, I’ve never acted out on my fantasies. That would lead me straight to jail, and then to the mental hospital, where I would spend the rest of my life doped up on drugs and most likely trying to kill myself.

Continue reading

Scary Time

The past few weeks have been horrible. I was drinking nearly every day and getting drunk. I’ve been wanting to cut myself again like nearly every day and wanting to just end my life.

Thankfully, Saturday was my last day drinking. I had a nice party here and I got super blasted and sadly went to sleep telling my girlfriend that I just wanted to fucking die because I clearly don’t belong in this world.

I spent the entire day of Sunday recovering from the horrible hangover and I am happy to say that the alcohol is flushed out of my body and if I ever want to drink again, I will just remember this dark phase of my life. I clearly use alcohol to punish myself. Often times when I drink, I cut. So it’s a definite no no for me in the same way casual sex is off limits.  Alcohol should bring pleasure and be done in moderation. To me, it brings more pain and I can’t control myself once I have my first drink.

I’ve been to AA before and I’m not a fan of their recovery model. I am going to contact a therapist in New York City today and hopefully I will be able to make an appointment with him next month when my new health insurance kicks into effect. I highly doubt there are any shamans or spiritual healers in the area but I will look into it. I contacted one from Oregon that runs some groups here in New York and sadly he can’t help me but he gave me a lot of good advice. I was happy and grateful for his lengthy message.

I feel like I will never get better and I feel like I don’t deserve to be happy, but I am going to try really hard to change these thought patterns. I don’t care how long it takes. No, it doesn’t help living in the house where I grew up being molested and raped. Where I spent most of my free time alone in my room, hidden from the world and struggling with depression and considering the possibility of suicide nearly every day. Thankfully, I have a job interview on Thursday with the nature store so hopefully they like me so I can start working and saving up money to move to New York City later this year.

I will write more later. I have a lot of things to do today, but that’s good. I won’t give up.

Worshiping My Master

Underneath his executive oak desk

I happily kiss and suck

Every delicious inch of him

Lavishing him in wet heat

Forcing him to moan and shudder

When I flicker my tongue

Below his balls full of seed

Eliciting a whimper from me

When he roughly pulls my hair

And calls me his sweet little cock whore

That is always craving more

My long, wet, loving tongue

Fucking him with deep licks

While I stroke his veiny cock

That is dripping cum

At the throbbing tip

And I massage his testicles

Until he whispers my name

And his toned legs shake

Before his cum, sweet and hot

Gushes out of his throbbing cock

Right onto his firm, taut stomach

I moan in absolute need

Before I lick every precious drop

Relishing in his intoxicating

Addicting semen that I adore

I love you, my sweet slave

He whispers gratefully

Before I kiss his erect cock

And I return to my office

Where I daydream

Of the next time

He will allow me

To worship him