The poem: Masochist
"A few beetroots were harmed in the making of this film"
I think I'm a masochist I crave intimacy more than any other feeling To have someone look at me and put all their emotions onto my body and mind The idea of being hit excites my mind more than any feeling of bodily pleasure The outburst of another inflicted on my skin, as their fist connect with my flesh and the blood vessels explode within like tiny orgasms To feel the ache graze over my skin and soothe into a warm and tingling sensation The idea of purple and red flowers blooming on my body in an act of true emotions I never got bruises from the hits They were never sexual or romantic I don't like to be hit in my face.
