daxle by the time your presence is apparent I have no idea where you from, much like a seagull 990516
donaldson bruises shroud
her skin and she digs
nails into your back,
teeth traps biting your shoulder,
and hands like vices hold
down your arms
lee LOVE... your look is like a blade of blue flame, a luxury of heat that I could dream and die in. You set whole fields of stone for me to clear, that love you write in vanishing ink, the sudden freeze you set between our seasons.
So do not ask me how I am. I get beyond this ache like breathing.
weeze purple flesh 991004
roxy "I want to know what happened to your arm."

I jerked the sleeve of my shirt over the offending mark and performed the only action I felt I could pull off. Laughing. I laughed and tried to turn my mother's scared and inquisitive eyes somewhere else. To the cat. The magazine in my lap. The TV. The floor. Anywhere but resting on that sunset-colored wound on my pale bicep the size of a child's fist. I worriedly and immediately tried to cover all the skin on both my arms with my small, shaking hands - a gesture I don't recommend, seeing as how it is both impossible and likely to make one appear less than innocent. I wondered if she had seen/could see any other marks on my body - even though I knew they were covered I considered them all. The scratches on my back, the clawmarks on my right shoulder, the assorted blue marks on my on my right collarbone, and the string of bruises running from my left bicep across my chest, up to my neck, and ending at my right shoulder.

"It's nothing. It's a bite, Mom." Still laughing.

"It's abuse," she said. "When it's a bruise that big that will take weeks to heal, it's abuse."

"It's" Christ. "It's not a violent thing, Mom."

How can one discuss masochism with one's mother?

"rather like having a hickey, you know"

Try as they might, no one can tell their mother (when she is asking sadly, worriedly about the apparent abuse of her daughter's body) of their desire to be bitten, of the sexual excitement brought on by pain, of bruises and tears (tehrs not teers) and what they represent to you (affection, lust) - not only does a familial relationship forbid this sexual discourse but there is also a generational/moral divide. My mother had never asked anyone to bite her as hard as they can. I was sure of it. And with this knowledge I could understand how preposterous my words seemed to her. To her I was giving excuses, urging her to believe he wasn't hitting me, or at least to let teh subject go.

She told me she wouldn't sleep all night.
BoofPixie Stop pinching, you!!! 000308
somebody congealing blood below the surface of skin, often the result of falling 000417
twiggie i have them all over my right hip from falling this week. i refused to fall on my left side so all of the pain is focused in one area. 010302
unhinged is my hair red enough for you?
so i drink to cover the bruise
and avert my glance
so as not to stare at
the only person in this
crowded room
i want more than
you should find out
how much i love you before
you just smile and
ask my advice
and the drink is wearing off
and i can feel it
that's going to hurt tomorrow
silentbob I'm not much of a bleeder 010303
jillian. i cant stop him from spinning around in my head and i cant stop looking at him two years ago captured in black and white and bound pages and here hes talking to me and saying what ive been wanting to hear and here i just dont know what to say back. 010708
Sol my heart is bruised and torn, rent wide open and weeping, swollen with tears and struggling to keep me alive. my mind is bruised stood upon and set about beaten and broken by my unrequited feelings. 010709
ClairE somewhat dirty
like a tennis ball
covered in dog slobber

a reminder

reminds me of dead folks

i like to bruise

annika and i would search eagerly for them
years later I'd say "bite me, hurt me"
and for once
surprise him.
sphinxradio i think you know as well as i do,
i can't pretend to not feel it anymore
the evidence is here, in me,
every time i look at you,
watching even as i tell myself not to.
WingedSerpent marks the spot where the rot will begin

radiating from the center out
urs i knocked over a cyclist - left me with a bruise. hurt him more though 040205
In_Bloom on one of my wrists you had held so tightly as we kissed, as though you thought I might pull away from you
or maybe, like me, that's how splendid the stolen time was for you with unchecked intensity
you said your ears were ringing
your heartbeat deafened my ear buzz
no one heard the little bruise
what's it to you?
who go