stockholme syndrome

I lay, shaking, with a once white, now damp sheet beneath me.

The colours that take over are beautiful. I can’t help but chuckle, intoxicated by my pain.

I’m still shaking.  He’s gone, and I crave his violence again.

Any human instinct for life seems feeble now.  Weak.  Void.  Overwhelmed by my conflicting desires.

On the surface, I will and plead, I beg for him to stop.  I scream, scared and vulnerable.

My secret desire, though, my silent prayers are that he continue.

He provides a sense of intensity, fight and thrill. A feeling I have can get only from him.

I know now, I am crippled, broken and worthless. I am numb

But it is this pain, its cruel relentless nature provides a sensation that reminds me I am here.

The colours around me are so vibrant and beautiful, flickers of crimson across the room. My crimson.