prison mad madame mim It took so long to remember just what happened. I was so young and vestal then, you know it hurt me, but I'm breathing so I guess I'm still alive even if signs seem to tell me otherwise. I've got my hands bound, my head down , my eyes closed, and my throat wide open. Do unto others what has been done to you I'm treading water, I need to sleep a while. My lamb and martyr, you look so precious. Won't you come a bit closer, close enough so I can smell you. I need you to feel this, I can't stand to burn too long. Released in this sodomy. For one sweet moment I am whole. Do unto you now what has been done to me. You're breathing so I guess you're still alive even if signs seem to tell me otherwise. Won't you come just a bit closer, close enough so I can smell you. I need you to feel this. I need this to make me whole. There's release in this sodomy. For I am your witness that blood and flesh can be trusted. And only this one holy medium brings me piece of mind. Got your hands bound, your head down, your eyes closed. You look so precious now. I have found some kind of temporary sanity in this shit blood and cum on my hands. I've come round full circle. My lamb and martyr, this will be over soon. You look so precious. 000104 ... Glory Box Precious, precious containment. Everyone lives in a prison. They create it themselves, they have it imposed upon them, they walk knowingly into a cage to please another. My prison? I like to think it's a wide open space, but how can I be sure? That's the thing about prisons. They make their boudaries elusive, they're hard to define. 000719 ... Aimee I've managed to create my own prison, in which I must live. Staring out at those who stare in at me. I reach my hands out, and want them to help me but they can't or won't. I'm trapped in my own prison 010218 ... Aimee should have been dead on a sunday morning banging my head. No time for mourning ain't got no time. 010218 ... *Ziima* this human form is my prison 010220 ... nemothedestroyer is my current state of being; at least in my mind. i sit in mine, mindlessly staring at the blank walls as each day passes, every one becoming increasingly longer than the next. time, being unmerciful as it is, mocks me as the clock ticks in perfect intervals of a second apiece and never ceases, droning its same exact pattern and imprisoning me. the depths of sleep are my only escape, as sleep is something that i rarely even see in my captivity. as my dreams take me away from this world and into the surreal, i finally experience the bliss that i long for. yet, every time i begin to make the escape from my prison, i am caught and nonetheless brought back into my cage and locked away. i wish for nothing more than my freedom, which so far has been proven impossible to grasp. *why can't we sleep forever?* -tool 020506 ... ndbg Il n'y a pas plus dicipliné qu'un gardien de prison. 040126 ... ndbg ou comment foutre la merde dans un blatheur ... 040126 what's it to you? who go blather from