"I would offer you my pulse," she says...
Yeah right. if she only knew.
If she only knew the hell i face
Each and every day,
She would let me die.
She would let me feel
The icy hot pain
As the cigarette tears
Through my burning flesh.
She would let me savor
Each smell, each sight,
Each sweet sound
As i torture myself
Into oblivion.
She would let me feel
As my breath begins to quicken
As the torture becomes
Unbearable and i stop
Only to start branding
My body once again.
She would let me feel
Every bit of saline
In each and every tear
As they flow down my cheek,
Past my nose.
Into my mouth.
The flavor of punishment.
She would let me feel
The sharp edge of the knife
As it rips through my skin.
She would let me feel
It go deeper and deeper -
The searing pain...
Making new scars.
She would let me feel
That sweet release
As i begin to vomit
And expel these secrets
Which have haunted my bowels
For so many years.
She would let me feel
As my heart spits and sputters
Trying so hard to keep me alive.
She would let me feel
My back begin to spasm
In rhythmic desperation.
She would let me feel
My jagged teeth
Biting into my tongue
So hard that a chunk is
Torn from its host.
She would let me be overcome
With trepidation as i
Gag and spit and drown
In my own saliva.
She would let me feel
The desperation i deserve
As each and every last
Drop of blood poured out of my body.
She would let me writhe and dance
In agony as i struggle to breathe
My last and dying breath.
She would let me close my eyes
As each of my muscles relaxes
Then twitches and relaxes
And twitches some more,
Twisting, turning,
Turning, twisting,
Spiraling down the stairway to hell
Where i belong.
She would let the music stop.
God, please let this music stop.
-- Jace Vela
© 1999
SOUNDS
HOME
