Pleasurable pain

~By Stephen Blackwood

Lyrics known & some verses of my own,

With the walls of my home,

I’m alone. 

With a constant taste of loneliness on my tongue,

What it feels like to be loved,

I’ve forgone.

To be honest,

I’m not completely alone,

For with me there is this shadow,

which wherever I go seems to follow;

& there are these walls of my home. 

But it’s the first time I’ve spent so much time with my own,

That how it feels to live- with the one you hate the most, 

I know.

Like the scratch on the roof of my mouth,

Which will heal if I can just stop tonguing it. 

There’s a pleasure in this pain,

which I’ve grown addicted to. 

And the pain?

Is it worth the kicks I get off it?

Absolutely. 

I love this pain so much, 

I almost welcome it,

For I’m addicted to the numbness it leaves, 

When it finally leaves. 

Like a shore left thrashed by the waves,  

Waves which now recede. 

It does leave me wanting for more, but right now I’m too numb to speak. 

Like a man on his deathbed, 

Yearning for his last kiss.  

A kiss, which he won’t be receiving.

There’s a solace from this sorrow, 

Which I won’t be seeking,

For the pain is my friend 

& the pleasure’s too deceiving. 

What’s the point?

When living is no different from dying?

When the living are,

No different from the dying?

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