DominatrixAriannaRouge's blog: "my poetry"

I yearn for the silence

With every passing year, I am losing patience

I want something that seems out of reach, long distance

But I want it now in this very instance

I am growing tired of looking at my own reflection with eyes filled with tarnished innocence

I am delirious with voices in my head babbling thing that make no sense

Or does it make sense like some paradoxical nonsense?

All I know is that I abhor their presence

Yet, I have grown accustomed to their acquaintance

If they abandon me, I will be plaintive in their absence

What is the meaning of this?

The voices are becoming more blasphemous

Clashing with my faith, so loud and cacophonous

How has my own mind become my antagonist?

Violently working against me with such a burning persistence

The burning is so intense that my feet refuse to make their stance to be resistant

I have fallen too weary, but tomorrow will be a continuance

Something

Something in me is broken.

I feel like my humanity has been stolen.

Because every day, I feel nothing.

Wait, that's a lie. I do feel something.

It's hard to explain, but I will find a definition.

It feels like something is burning.

Something is on fire, caught up in some type of conflagration.

There is more, something more saddening.

My vocal cords are damaged from an internal screaming.

My eyes are tired from being awake because I fear dreaming.

My head is bloody from beating it against the wall in frustration.

My wrath, my rage pour out in lethal precipitation.

I am killing everyone with guilt and condemnation.

I try to cover my mouth from releasing word to contribute to the earth's pollution.

But the voices say no, they need to listen.

So, I drop my guard and smear the crowds with the pains of my depression.

My heart tears out of my chest with her teeth singing out my secrets, my confessions.

My antagonist is pouring salt into my wounds caused by self infliction.

My knees are sore from constantly praying.

I need assistance, divine intervention.

Stop me from making my final move to put the last nail in my coffin.

And there is that nagging feeling.

No words can describe it, no explanation.

I just know it's there, looking at this train wreck in admiration.

The pain I feel is so intense and piercing.

I want to slit my own throat, this is my final call, close the curtains.

I know all this is not just a figment of my imagination.

There has to be some type of reason.

So, I sit here in the dark, trying to figure it out. I don't know, but it has to be something.

I wrote this because I just needed to get it out on paper and out of my mind. I am not in danger.....

Each time I open these veins

With shakey hands and a heart full of pain

Fluid pours, drips out into a bloody ink stain

Spreading through the papers, drowning out any links that prove that I am sane.

These lips can't begin to utter anything to anyone to understand these discussions.

I tell you, I want to gouge out my own eyes so I don't have to see my own reflection.

I don't wish to continue to bare witness to my strengthening insanity and internal damanation.

Darkness, my dear friend, has lead me down this path.

Holding my hand as she leads me into my own bloodbath.

She fully knows that my own death is the only acceptable aftermath.

My monologues for this yearning of it to end are intricate.

My heart is set, there is no room for debate.

At this point, I can feel the light leave the premises and vacate.

Running like an ill prepared family before a storm, trying to evacuate....

Somewhere within the chambers of my heart a mouth murmurs with a plethora of hypocritical verses laced intricately with paradoxes in the dark. I hear my name floating through the air. 
Misfortune’s out stretched hand gestures execrably for me to come hither; my body answers that request and moves with fluidity…with purpose towards that entity. I come face to face with my pity, my lover, my knight in rusted armor. 
Sorrow pulls my hair away from my neck and kisses me fondly along my collarbone. 
Vexation runs his fingers through my hair and caressing my shoulders. 
Fury admires me admiringly with a guise of hunger for my kiss of innocuous innocence. 
Anxiety grasps my hips, embracing me feverishly and looking into my eyes absorbedly; the same way that a pillager studies its ill-informed quarry. 
I close my dejected eyes as I melt in the arms of apathy and allow myself to be devoured by the very rage that I birthed with my own bloody hands.
Certain death has dressed me with extravagant black silks and lace, adorning me for the moment to end all moments. 
As I dine with my eventide, I distinguish where this night shall end. 
However, for the time being I will lay in the splendid establishment of my miscellaneous company. 
I hath no phobias and no repentances.
And as that glorious drape cascades on this night of covetous liaisons I consent to each lover’s appeal for the existence of which they have engaged with a deathly grip and addicting touch……..

Acrimonious and fragmented is this day
Mislaid and secluded is thy love
From the pitcher of sorrow I drink the liquid of my slow death. It pours through my soul, drenches my inner most anatomy and quiches my thirst for things unlawful and just. It puts out the flames that dance wildly under the light of my growing desire to love what is bad. 
But that desire whispers…..yes, it whispers every so softly. Speaking profusely and singing soothing lullabies. My heart groans and becomes heavy with in my ribs….sinking
Sinking me down further in to the bouts of my dark depression; drowning me in the waters of my darkest hour. Even the sun’s brightest dawn has no light strong enough to pierce the veil of this ironclad obscurity. It’s cold…
….Cold to the very bones of my skeleton; freezing my happiness in the chill of the winds, blowing in all directions and spinning me about.
I slide down that wall of nothingness and pull my knees to my chest, clinging on to the warmth….indeed that precious warmth that churns my blood in its veins. I hold my arms about my person like a wool coat; like a mother protecting her child from the elements.
I dwell here in this place and wonder through my thoughts of suicidal tenacities and audacities. And I wait for hope to fall upon me and clothe me for this weather.
Until that day….
Look upon these dejected eyes and see a tale of woe. 
Feast your eyes upon my scared flesh and see history of wars old and new
Read my lips and listen as I keep telling you so.
My future seems dim, and all my nightmares are coming true.