Monday, January 17
Jan. 17 Mon.
"Yeah...
So this is how you mend..
On cold intricate floors –
A lovely way to show
All the slits inside you..
...
A cold surface,
A little dangerous..
A free fall in,
A cold on set.
...
The ordinary things
Don’t matter to you no more..
A high to reach through me,
When you stalk in silence..
So this is how you mend." -Surface
...
I wanted it.
...
...
I wanted to feel her break in my hands..
Wanted her to crack, to snap, to go insane..
Wanted her to hate me, to feebly resist hating me..
I wanted her to suffer.
...
...
Seemed like Pain, Fate, and Despair were not the only sadists who took notice of the unique pleasure from feeling, tasting, hearing, seeing her suffer...
And damn..
Damn..
Damn.
She was beautiful.
...
...
She smelled like rain-drenched soil, tasted like corn syrup, felt like sun-warmed orchids, sounded like ripples in a pond..
For about three seconds or so.
...
...
The floor was cold, and my vicinity on fire.
Shame and disgust crept in, and molded snugly into me.
Im not as strong as they think.
Im free..
Im warm..
Im blissful..
Im...
I’m addicted.
...