Spanky Mary's Oubliette Poem by Wild Bill Balding

vivid vermillion on cloud-white flesh
signals like neon in the night,
a beacon to guide those who will...

hurt me - punish me for being so evil
hurt me - punish me, for it's my fault
hurt me - punish me, as he did once
and twice and thrice and countless times,
each one in secret, each one our secret,
secretly hurting, then secretly pleasing
someone - or something - inside me

is your kindness a prelude to the usual pain?
will I despise it as a sign of weakness?
will I push you away, unable to cope,
ignoring the disfigured, disabled
dwarf of a thought
forgotten in a dungeon
shouting 'this is the way'
in a language that once I knew
but now sounds compellingly foreign?