Gratification Of Desire

a heavy secret.

Bobbing for heads...
swinging trophies from the ceiling,
nailed to my walls,
I got them smiling - gutted them crying,
left their bodies for the scavangers - I only wanted their heads,
thrill of the kill, my ego hangs from these walls.

Look in the eyes of hollowness,
embrace the monster,
murder the man - that weak and pathetic soul,
no voices here, just me...
divinity never controled my actions,
my purity is of a different kind.

Hide behind this beast,
heartless and alone,
my weakness will never be shown,
kill for the pleasure, kill for the pain,
look in their eyes and watch them slip away,
is it sick? a smile comes to my face,
the pleasure comes not from the death but the gutting.

Beauty in decapitating is beyond understanding,
neatly wrapped packages I carry to my secret place,
with a cup of coffee and some smokes,
observe my collection - such glory in this morbidity,
pleasing my eyes with the calming gore that glares back at me,
proportions of sickness - I disagree;
maybe they speak in another world, but I'm deaf to hear,
I see no wrong I see pleasure - indulgence not abstinence,
and to think euphoria never existed,
there is hope after all.

Author's Note

this is one of my old poems, those who reviewed it before the admins fucked up! then you can feel free to not give another review, but it would be appreciated if you would do it again, cheers!

Reviews

[Gary H]

I guess space permitting a head collection is a neat idea if you can keep the skin intact and the clean out the insides so they don't drop out everywhere. I'm sure I'm missing the point here as no doubt you have something psychological you are saying but I enjoyed this on the basic level I read it at!

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

there is hope after all... good last line for this one .. now this i see as gore to the max.. good writing ..

Chloe
xoxo