16 February 2015

It Explains A Lot




Thoughts aren't right

My wires are twisted

Pleasure and pain are demented

Intermingling my reality with fantasy

I may not feel but relish the screams like waves that awaken sensations deep inside of me

I get excited from watching blood freely flow from a fresh wound of the flesh, a canvas for coagulation that causes many shades

As I'm laying here strapped down in my bed, I have a fascination with dissecting while having my subjects alive, one has to remember that in the end that I'm just a person that's sick in the head, or so it's been said

Copyright © 2015 by Patrick B Vince

Fibonacci Poem

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