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Sufi Style<BR><BR>
<a href='delicious.php?PHPSESSID=70c99754f2cb33ef11ed9eb9cfe0d8d6'>delicious</a><BR>
<a href='nutritious.php?PHPSESSID=70c99754f2cb33ef11ed9eb9cfe0d8d6'>nutritious</a><BR>
<a href='archives.php?PHPSESSID=70c99754f2cb33ef11ed9eb9cfe0d8d6'>archives</a><BR>Sometimes words just aren't enough;
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Sometimes the only true catharsis
<BR>
is a brisk whip of the cat-o'-nine
<BR>
tearing into the virgin flesh of
<BR>
my unsuspecting and relatively unscathed
<BR>
back... ack, ack, smack!
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<BR>
I've closed my eyes countless times before
<BR>
yet still my life delivers me already home.
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There was never a time when I felt as...
<BR>
as, out of touch with my own sense of pain
<BR>
yearning to be hit, cut, slashed, bruised,
<BR>
destroyed in both the mental, physical and
<BR>
emotional states of my earthly embodiment.
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<BR>
The first day is always the worst,
<BR>
the body reacts to alien introductions
<BR>
rushing to find a quick solution
<BR>
to cauterize the fresh cut wounds in the soul.
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By the second day, you've begun to welcome the pain.
<BR>
You become the pain, and with eyes closed
<BR>
you are no longer human,
<BR>
you are thousands of nerve endings
<BR>
transmitting to the brain a feeling of discomfort,
<BR>
a feeling of existence.
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These are the days I miss once more,
<BR>
the rush of blood and tears down one's face.
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That simple reminder that in all the stumbling,
<BR>
in all the days lost to forgetfulness of past
<BR>
in all the days to be lost in the future
<BR>
you are something more than a vague entity
<BR>
skimming across the unknown waters of
<BR>
whatever is this so-called life.
<BR>
<BR>
I need that pain to remind me I'm alive,
<BR>
without which i am but an empty shell,
<BR>
my pearl long lost to the depair of yesterday.
<BR>
Sadistic, maybe, but what is pleasure
<BR>
without a realization of immense pain?
<BR>
<BR>
Swallow your hearts in the fire,
<BR>
you are near and I'll complain no less,
<BR>
this is what becomes of a man left to himself.
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The more that I live on the inside,
<BR>
the more I see myself how I am not.
<BR>
<BR>
I want to feel it moving through me,
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I want to know once more that I am more than this.
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I am the root of my eternity,
<BR>
decrepit and stale in a lifeless soil.
<BR>
<BR>
Words are just not enough anymore,
<BR>
but with eyes closed,
<BR>
with images of sharp rusty blades
<BR>
running deep throughout my skin
<BR>
perhaps they once more will be again.
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