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Josiah Jacobus-Parker

All of this, without even a touch.

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Pain.

Little electric signals

Pulsing from the nerve endings in your skin

All the way to your brain,

And back again, in a single second.

That gnawing, ripping feeling

In the pit of your stomach as the internal shockwaves

Fight for a way out.

Why.

The ever-present why.

Why it doesn't hurt at first when

You accidentally brush your fingers

Against a hot pan fresh from the oven,

Until you realize what is happening.

Why it doesn't hurt at first when

You drag a jagged piece of glass across your forearm,

Only to feel the sore, swelling throb

Of the cuts as they begin to heal an hour later.

Why it doesn't hurt at first when

He whispers in your ear,

Wrapping his arms around you,

Until the sweet tingles of ecstasy

Running from your toes to the crown of your head

Turn into white-hot daggers stabbing

At the very depths between your legs.

But it's happening all over again.

A whispered word,

A gap in the story left to the imagination,

And all I can feel are the harsh shockwaves of agony

Vibrating inside of me,

And the feeling of my breath dying in my lungs.

All of this, without even a touch.

And I can't control it.

I have no say in it.

So tell me.

Where's the poetic justice in this?

Knowing that we won't be able to make it past

A timid kiss without my need to curl into a ball

And clutch at my stomach until the stabs of electricity

Die down?

Is that the fucking irony in this relationship?

And he worries for me.

Worries over the pain,

Knowing it's partly his doing.

Worries because we can't even speak candidly

About possible future exploits

Because just hearing his voice whisper

Such luscious things brings about convulsions of pain.

I don't care if it's because our love is so passionate.

I don't care if it's because

I have so much pent up sexual tension and frustration.

The point is simply that it will send stabs of pain

Through me for him to touch me in any sexual way,

And I'll be damned if this isn't some kind of cosmic joke.

It's a pain I can't control.

It's a pain that blocks me from living

Any kind of normal life.

It could easily be only a barrier

That can be broken down in time,

But that doesn't change the fact

That it's harsh electricity coursing through me.

And he's far too hesitant to help me conquer this.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

I was happy until this.

And now I can't help but cry.

It's something I can't control,

Something I can't understand,

Something I've never even heard of happening before.

One moment it's a sweet tingle of arousal,

The next it's a cacophony of pain

Blasting through every nerve ending

From my heart down to my toes.

And I don't understand.

And don't any of you dare lay any pity on me.

It's cruel enough to have this taking place to begin with.

--------------------------------------------------------

No, this wasnt about me. No, I'm not a cutter. No I don't have spasmatical pains. And no I'm not massively distraught or depressed. But yes, this is a work in progress. What do you think?

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Silky, sleek fur, a purr, but sharp teeth and claws hath the tiger.

...Or is he a Tigger sort of tiger, with springs in his tail... or tales?

(Your current avatar rocks mightily. I get a grin every time.)

Well, yipe, the poem made me almost flinch a bit, expecting stuff. I prefer pleasure with my pleasure, and never pain, but the latter's unavoidable every now and then, it seems, in life. Yep, it happens in relationships and breakups too.

I do think you're not quite done with it. Where is the narrator going with this and why? Does he find resolution and relief? If not, then that's a place to explore too.

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with springs in his tail... or tales?

That, Mister, was a bad bad pun. I applaud you good sir.

I do think you're not quite done with it. Where is the narrator going with this and why? Does he find resolution and relief? If not, then that's a place to explore too.

I hadn't really considered the rest of it. I just got to a point where I realised it was already very long and I didn't know what else to write at the time.

I intend to come back and work on it some more eventually... when my muse permits. :roll:

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