I'm always hearing jokes about incest or how it's disgusting. The funny thing is...it doesn't affect the people that complain about it. I've looked at it the same way too. However, after I looked at it and analyzed its pros and cons I see zero problems. As long as both party members are consensual, I see no reason to judge it. Now, just because I'll say that I have no problem with it doesn't mean that I'm wanting to fuck my cousin or anything. I see this topic as the new love that'll eventually come around, like being gay. It's seen in a similar way as being gay was decades ago. If you mention it or are curious about it, people will automatically assume that you're a part of it. Just like being gay it has some, especially with children. Everyone who's gay knows how exactly they'll have to start a family if they want one. Sure it's not the traditional way to have/raise a child, but it works. Those who are part of incest would be aware of the birth defects on a future child. As long as they know about the consequences and don't complain about their situation, they're alright.

I have a tiger in my room.

It always bothers me with it’s booms.

I’m always listening to it scratching at my door.

It only communicates with loud roars.

It stares at me with glowing eyes,

It’s tempting presence I despise.

With messes, fear, headaches, and more,

I make sure no one looks beyond the door.

I have a tiger in my room,

It is causing great wounds.

I need to let him be free,

Or I’ll live a terrible destiny.

It's blank.

Bright white.

Blinding my eyes.

It's empty.

Crying for attention.

Craving a filling.

It's lifeless.

Dying for a purpose.

Dreading what isn't there.

It's vacant.

Fascinated with the opportunity.

Finished with the past.

It's a masterpiece.

Eager to inspire others.

Enjoyed by millions.

Enhanced for this exact reason.

It's proud of you.

All my life I hear one word over and over again.

Go.

I'd have a problem that I can't solve on my own.

Go.

The job isn't finished and no one else wants to step up.

Go.

They're in need of help and for some reason only I can provide it.

Go.

Then,

Something else is in my way.

Go.

I'm too busy to offer attention.

Go.

I don't want to deal with it.

Go.

All their life I've only said one thing.

Go.

I see a light

It's not mine

It's yours don't be afraid to use it

If you can't take me

That's all right

As long as you can smile

I'll smile with you

When you leave me behind

Know that I will be all right

I see a light

I may cry myself to sleep at night

But if you tell me nothing's going right

I'll chang my mind

I see your light

You've hurt me and I'll never recover.

You've told me to stop doing the things I enjoy.

I shouldn't want you.

Yet I do.

I want you to hold me at night.

I want you to be the only one in my life.

I want you to be the reason I wake up in the morning.

But you're not.

You're the person that scares me.

You're the person I should speak to.

You're the person that'll have me cry to sleep at night.

I shouldn't have these thoughts about you.

But I do.

He dragged me to a room with twinkle lights covering the wall behind the bed. The bedroom was incredibly warm despite the amount of snow on the ground along with the temperature of the wind right outside the window. Maybe he was drunk off his mother’s wine. I know I was. With my boyfriend right downstairs I should have more guilt right now but, that just made the scenario more exciting. The bedding was soft and smooth against my skin, his face was right above mine, leaving my mind in a blank bliss. The pleasure that was coursing through my body that night was one I’d hope to not soon forget.

When you look at me and say you know everything about me, I hate that.

If I tell you the truth about myself and that changes your attitude towards me, I hate that.

When you let me trust you then go back on that trust, I hate that.

If I tell you how I feel when you ask then you tell me to stop crying, I hate that.

When I tell you that I'm gay and you act so surprised that it was your last though, I hate that.

If I look into your eyes and tell you that you've hurt me but you insist that I'm crazy, I hate that.

When you tell me that you're there for me and you'll try your best and then fall away from your words, I hate that.

I hate it when you lie to me, judge me, discriminate against me, I hate you.

@demcmurphy

I look around the room.

There’s a large crowd of people.

They all have great potential.

Yet I’m put at their level.

Everyone’s paired up with someone.

In useful conversation.

Talking about their achievments.

About their motivation.

I’m sticking to this small corner of the room.

Trying to hide away.

Don’t engage in conversation.

Don’t talk about your day.

Don’t look them in the eye.

Because if you do.

They’ll outdo what you’ve already done.

The days were cold and the ground was about as comfortable as a rock. I had lifted up my head, shaking from the previous battle. I saw my fellow soldiers on the white ground. The snow was painted in their blood. I was the only living soldier on the battlefield then. I can no longer tell whether I was shivering from the cold wind blowing against me or the images of everyone get injured and killed. I looked around me, for any wandering eyes. After confirming that I was alone, I began to walk back to the campsite.

Snow was piled so high on the ground that it began to fill my boots. I tried to ignore my iced feet, but had no success. My uniform was falling apart. There was no warm and soft fur brushing against my neck as I walked. The weapons that were on my person had also vanished. I had nothing to protect myself from man or nature.

Soon enough I could see were the campsite was established. Tents were surrounding a smoking campfire in the middle. The tents were ripped to shreds leaving barely anything for it’s skeleton to support. The snow was falling faster and the wind was blowing harder. It was enough to knock a small child off his feet. I hid behind a tree, to keep some of the wind out of my face. I lied down on the ground, contemplating about why I came here in the first place. Was it worth the risk I just took on my life? Did I do this for a good reason or was it for something I didn’t want?

My stomach was running on empty, and I was exhausted from my own mind. Slowly my consciousness drifted away from me and my vision became black. The extreme cold of the wind and snow became warmer and warmer. The gentle noise of the harsh wind sounded like a lullaby as it traveled through the trees.

Eventually the sound of the whistling winds turned in the melody of a crackling warm fire. There was a large piece of bear fur covering my entire body. As I was listening and watching the reliable fire, I had come to the realization that my limbs were bound to the ground. I had barely enough mobility to move my neck. Soon enough I heard footsteps coming my way.

I struggled to gain my freedom to run however, I was not quick enough. With strong rope holding my body in position, a blunt object hit me upside the head. With my mind black once more, my nightmares and thoughts began to return. Was I wrong to follow my parents’ dream of becoming what I am? Should I be looking for my own passion and not some wish from another? Will I survive? Am I already dead? Will I know if I’m dead?

As soon as the light and the warmth came in, the thoughts and questions stopped. My shoulders were sore and my ankles were swollen. My body was bare and I was on a large stick. With rope my ankles were secured and my arms were tied behind my back. A large crack sat on my forehead. Blood was dripping onto the ground, as if creating a pathway for help, or a monument walkway for historical events.

I was eventually stuck in the ground around a large bonfire. A circle of other people were filling in the empty spaces around me, each tied the same way, with the same cut, and none with a piece of clothing on their back. Some were still unconscious, others were dead or tied, and a few had a cloth wrapped around their mouth for them to keep quiet. Each victim had a man next to their post. They were all bare-chest with animal teeth sewn onto their shoulders, like one would stitch a button to their shirt. Their noses were painted with and reached up to their forehead. Their right cheek had two black stripes will the left had a red circle colored orange. Their pants were from animal fur with a small pouch hanging from waist. Their hairstyles came in different forms of messy and rugged.

There were large red containers with a long black spout coming from one end. A handle for easy carry was placed at the top of the container, almost blending in with the design as if to not exist. Each one began to pour a rancid liquid onto all of our chests. The liquid dripped down our legs. The solution was eventually running from the red containers down our backs. The band of people began to sing a song in a foreign language you couldn’t understand.

Even though the meaning of their lyrics were unknown, the melody and how they flowed together made sense. As it began to progress more and more, you got lost in the peaceful sound and the gentle rhythm. Soon, the entire thing consumed you into your own little fantasy world. You’d be so enchanted by this experience, that it became a great distraction from your flesh melting off your body as they set flames to create their own choreography for the music.