So red.
You reek of valentine, like a cheap whore immersed in cabernet rouge. I could flog you in the streets, whip, and burn you at a stake with all the other things I once believed in. So beautifully mutilated, I watch, your maimed body forms a crimson puddle at your feet, and i send rings of skunk to pollute the air. How awfully chic.
“Scream for me.” I stub you. “SCREAM FOR ME”. I repeat. With gritted teeth, I dig my grime coated nails into you like a panther and tear at your flesh, watching each peel, every layer of your epidermis fall like rose petals. My rabid cuticles want to skin you some more but the cleaver yearns to drink. The cleaver yearns to carve. Tonight, your wails of pardon will be guillotined forever.
Down goes the spade, Up comes the shriek, Down goes the spade, Up comes the scream. It’s almost melodious, the squelching tune of a gravestone coming down on your skull. Kneeling upon this wasteland, i reach in and bare your eyes to the hell thou hast unleashed.
A solemn wind blows fossilized leaves and remnants of once pretty butterflies onto the grave marker that reads, “here lies love”
-Ankiet
(Reprieve is defined as a temporary relief from harm or discomfort)
You reek of valentine, like a cheap whore immersed in cabernet rouge. I could flog you in the streets, whip, and burn you at a stake with all the other things I once believed in. So beautifully mutilated, I watch, your maimed body forms a crimson puddle at your feet, and i send rings of skunk to pollute the air. How awfully chic.
“Scream for me.” I stub you. “SCREAM FOR ME”. I repeat. With gritted teeth, I dig my grime coated nails into you like a panther and tear at your flesh, watching each peel, every layer of your epidermis fall like rose petals. My rabid cuticles want to skin you some more but the cleaver yearns to drink. The cleaver yearns to carve. Tonight, your wails of pardon will be guillotined forever.
Down goes the spade, Up comes the shriek, Down goes the spade, Up comes the scream. It’s almost melodious, the squelching tune of a gravestone coming down on your skull. Kneeling upon this wasteland, i reach in and bare your eyes to the hell thou hast unleashed.
A solemn wind blows fossilized leaves and remnants of once pretty butterflies onto the grave marker that reads, “here lies love”
-Ankiet
(Reprieve is defined as a temporary relief from harm or discomfort)
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