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Literature Text
It's hard living with a demon in your mind. Even harder when you've known something wasn't right about you, but you couldn't put your finger on it until now. Until he grabs your soul and doesn't let go. Until he makes you collapse on your bedroom floor trying to calm him and yourself down because he's too coked up on porn and making you stick your nasty sinner fingers in yourself to give him what he wants. He doesn't stop there, oh no. Auditory and visual hallucinations almost make his night. What completes it is having you scared out of your mind. Enough to, for that night, think you are honestly going insane. Nobody wants that, wants a demonic companion in their head telling you to look up disgusting ugly filthy degrading things and pleasuring yourself every. Single. Night. When you try to stop he whispers in your ear that you need it. You crave it. You. Are an addict. An addict that the demon in your head loves to fuck with. Loves to scream at you that you're a whore because you do these things that you shouldn't do. That society shuns and hides from. The demon doesn't care. He cares about one thing: Your agony.
Literature
NighTale
NighTale
Written on Sunday, January 4th 2015
As Night lovingly embraced Sky, her lover
And brought him down to her bosoms
Man sheltered themselves and fell still;
Not even their breathing was heard
While Stars danced above, lustful
Seducing before the lone, aroused Moon
Without Sun acknowledging their betrayal
Without Horizon witnessing their caresses
Then what story did mankind hold?
Too afraid to step into Darkness' domain
Too frail to bear the cold Frostbite;
Just hiding under the shade of blankets, shivering
That no soul under the Heaven said a word
That no tavern sang songs of the old
For there be only Silence, her and only ex
Literature
Enemmies
I am the CEO
I am the judge and jury
I am the big spender
I am the iron fist
I am the decider
I am the forest
I am the greenery
I am the deer and the doves
I am the usable space
I am the decision
Literature
Dromomania
Every day I turn the key in the lock
Hoping to find you
tucked into the white folds
of an envelope,
of the bath towel I left on the sofa this morning.
But you and I, we haven't the breadth for that sort of thing.
I wish I could send you something of spring,
some distended meteor green with hope.
I'm watching the last of the oak leaves cling
stubborn
and I think
spring may not be coming this year.
There is no birdsong, there is
the furious sleeping of toads in the mud.
I came on the bench
where I slept in the warmth of your memory
this time last year.
Now the thought seems less mine and maybe it was
me you'd dreamt beside,
m
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I have been very hesitant about putting my story up on DA. This is something very real that I struggle with nightly. It's not fun. At all. I cry because I just want The Thing gone. Problem is he's been there (unknowingly) for so long that I don't know if I could function without him. I'm sick of feeding him. Sick of feeding the porn-hungry demon in my head. I'm tired. It hurts.
© 2014 - 2024 PossumFan
Comments12
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You can deal with your demons and use them for yourself. But it looks like you turning to the other way.
In anycase - I like your prose.
Keep it up
In anycase - I like your prose.
Keep it up