Life

You either fuck the world, or let the world fuck you.

The pain can feel so good, making you cum with sadness.

It's addicting, like the inhale of a morning cigarette.

So normal, so routine.

So needed.

Necessary almost, just to make it through the day,

and although you know its bad for you, you allow it to kill you more and more.

With each pull you take, each mental orgasm, you finish each time just waiting for the next.

Always waiting, because you know its coming.

You get comfortable with the feeling.

Opening yourself up to it, letting it consume you.

Control you.

It's every thought.

You can stop thinking about it, and its always there.

Stroking you, feeding you.

You depend on it, although you know where the darkness will take you, you allow it to lead the way.

Always staying close behind, as if you're afraid of what it would feel like with out it.

You let it put you in a place where you just want to be alone.

So when it comes for you again, you can enjoy it.

Without being judged, without remorse.

You let it push you over the edge till your clawing at your sheets, gasping for air.

Overcome with the sensation of it all.

It's sick.

Used and abused, fucked till you can't move.

And when the euphoria of it subsides, you drift of to sleep.

Dreaming about it, of what it feels like.

How it feels inside you.

It makes you angry, but you love it.

Because it makes you real.

Who are you without it?

Every hair pulling, teeth clenching, moan of pure intense agony, keeps you feeling something.

You're numb to everything but life's cock.

Always probing.

Thrusting another inch further into your throat each time till it burns.

Bringing tears to your eyes, but you never let them fall.

You're used to it.

You're a slave to it.

You wait, always waiting til it lets you cum again.

You know its bad for you, that it kills you a little more each time.

You're addicted to it.

Just like that morning cigarette.