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Misery,
     you have me upon my knees,
palms heavy and cold against sterile ground.
Your crystalline fingers caress and tease
the frigid skin behind my grey neck, bound
to respond only to you. Your fleshless
digits trail ice to the base of my spine,
lingering there, telling me I possess
no part in this game. Your tongue, divine
and calloused, plasters along the side of
my throat and slowly down my lower back.
I tremble, hands lily-blue, aware my love
is only illusion as is this lack
of weight upon my arms and legs. I barely
feel you hold me up, hand spanning my belly.

Misery,
     you pull me towards you, I obey,
flowing with your rhythm. I watch my spirit
cloud and billow through my breath as you flay
me from behind, moving erratically, spit
dripping between my shoulders. Your right fist
becomes a dagger, thrusting against my
hip and side; an odd pain that won’t desist
inside, yet I cannot feel upon my
flesh. Thigh and ribs swell with warm pulsing
color, yet your left hand stables my core. You stop
my collapse. You’re not done. Nails fitting
deep into my stomach, blunt teeth drop
into my shoulder. Yet my delusion
of ardor keeps me from dissolution.

Misery,
     my elbows crumble, chipping
like frost, my face would have shattered had your
daggered hand not been there, quickly winding
into my hair. But it was too much, for
my right side fell and your nails came away
with flesh trailing beneath them. My chest hit
heavily, forcing my last spirit to stray
in a torrent of frightened smoke. Yet it
did not deter your lust only heightened
your finale. A pounding darkness played
behind my eyes as you came to your end
and released me. I could feel myself fade
from your interest, I was your broken toy.
Your fleshless face clicked its black teeth: Good boy.