Sex Addict

I think every expressive teen goes through a phase where they feel the need to be raunchy; where they feel like they have to piss people off. Though this certainly isn't my worst work, it is meant to make readers feel uncomfortable. Reminiscent of my older style of writing - where many of the lines feel disjointed and scatter-brained - the basic idea behind the poem is someone who had been the victim of an incestuous, abusive relationship with his or her mother, resulting in a twisted self image and (as implied) an affinity with murder. Now, of course, the poem makes use of stereotypes of rape and molestation victims somehow turning into... monster, which I must assert vehemently that I do not condone. Nevertheless, the fraught feeling and awful aftertaste that is left in the wake of this poem just couldn't be kept from adulterating the blog for long. Enjoy!    

Sex Addict

Five pointed star
Six sided figure
Goddamn, slides of past life!
Man, it figures
You know, to ring out and sell out the wise
Slit the envelope
I had nine lives
to try,
but slept instead
When I left the door open,
I lost my last breath
Escape into the night
Slip through the iron bars
A hemophiliac in an iron maiden,
raped by his mother and taught the wrong lesson
Sex addict!
Break the hymen and salt the womb
You'd be surprised who will survive to turn over the tombs
You know,
to break bread is to break open the soul
Let the fang drip,
clip the tip,
and let it slip
You shouldn't have chained up and beat that bitch!
This isn't a dogfight,
this is genocide!
This is a holocaust plight
with the taste of gas in my eyes
The rite of the wrong is a fool's lasting song
Sing your life away and you'll never do wrong
"Yeah right!
O.K.
I'll believe you one day
Look at this shit, man!
This motherfucker is gay!"
Gay from life,
not from cock, man!
Butcher knife carving
Starving the symbols,
tight,
and I'll give you a hint:    
Two doors down,
the one on the right
Tap Bach,
turn the knob left,
and give your knuckle a bite
Nerves are nerveless
Facing mirrors in the rain
You know, they make medicine for that
I can recommend a nice dealer
Turn it over
Find the components and rip them all out
Tattoo the Bible on your vulva
Weak ankles
Can't dance off the cliff of forgiveness
Claustrophobic white walls as I'm manipulating the witness
Food Network programs and anatomy books
Help to give meaning to my life's work
Mommy should have loved me a little bit more,
maybe then I wouldn't have turned out to be such a whore!