Sadist
I'm a sadist. I derive
pleasure from other
people's pain. You may
think it evil like the loss
of oxygen. But, you swim
anyway.
My skin blisters as layers
of molten flesh drizzle
down my back. The seething
wax scales. Don't
condemn me. Your needles
puncture leaving an ink
stain called a tattoo.
The leather slashes,
slices, and paddles each
muscle like a mallet
tenderizing meat. I go
insane for pain while you
swell with vanity
over pounds and pounds
of lifted iron to stretch
and rip your body. Freak!
There is some gain
in pain. I bask in the fever
of throbbing flesh whimpering,
whining, aching for more.
I'm a slave to a master
who pounds my body with padded
gloves. At least, I don't
offer a gold medal
to the one still standing
after a bell in a boxing ring.
I sink my teeth into
prime beef and chew
to the bone as the cry of agony
seeps through like blood
out a band aid.
It's no different
from you who chooses
to chomp and churn on gum.
I lick up and down
like a tongue on a popsicle
to soothe the blaring skin.
I climb on top as pores
open and ignite from
from the friction of skin
on skin. The thrill of this skill
leaves a thirst untapped.
I'm a sneaky, freaky
little man who prefers
the rod over the belt.
It inflicts more punishment.
To scoff at my desire is to disguise
your closeted feline passion.
I'm the confessed erotic neurotic.
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