Torture Libido

Torture Libido

Poetry

Lourdes Vega

 

 

 

With breath hung heavy and love like a shooting gallery, I say, I lost myself in anonymity.
The sweet spot of sickly instinct, impoverished by all lovers’ lament.
All else before stunk of cat piss and dog shit.
Some putrid lovers quarrel without any meaning.
Hate is too simple a word, as I loathed it. Purely fucking misanthropic.
I was never in control of my affairs, they controlled me.
Not anymore, cause I adore this drug-fueled push and pull.
Addicted to your touch of evil, you cradle me so lovingly into a coma.

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