Rage

I'm pissed. I'm angry. I'm raging and it's consuming me. I want to hurt everything and everyone in my path. It's moments like these that make me realize that I'm severely damaged and that my father must've overlooked it so that he wouldn't have to deal with it. Hell, I don't want to deal with it. But it feels so nice now that I think about it. To be in this mess. That hot, bubbling sensation that corrodes my being, that makes my fingers tingle with expectation, that fucks up my lungs to the point that I can barely breathe. I feel exhilarated, I can't wait. The smell of blood and fear makes me shudder, my mouth relaxes after I lick my dry lips. And they curl. I'm intoxicated with the prospect. I'm dying (ironically) to get my hands on my kill, my defenseless prey. I'm going out for coffee tonight. For a long while, and through this I'll drown all my rage and my passive aggressive stance. Yes. Today some unlucky bastard will feel me and regret being born in the first place.

Ecstasy and bliss

Not even I can believe that those words are truly in the subject head but then again, today has been the day of many miracles. This week, that had started out with a load of shit just for me, has given me something that I think not even the Gods in Olympus predicted. We did it. I did. I didn't think about here, now, past or future. I just felt the undeniable surge of lust and did everything in my power to achieve it's satisfactory finale.
Ah yes.
Blissful sin I have just committed. Bad boy am I? Indeed but it was... there are truly no words for it.

... :)

He's mine now.