an old snippet

beautiful as a winter's night, crisp and cold and oh so white, laid out and spread wide, soft landscape of ribs and hips, the swell of the chest, the hollow of a throat. spread your fingers between those white bones and count, one, two, three, four, five...

too many complications in this world.

one, two, three, four...

you've always wanted every fucking thing in this world you could never have... and it makes you feel so dirty, so different. standing alone outside in the cold cold wind while everyone else plays warm and safe and you watch from the window. they fog the glass.

you break it.

one, two, three...

beautiful as a winter's night, drenched in red. make it hot, make it melt, the ice, the shivering branches... limbs... black black hair tangled, all tangled up in sharp fingertips. singing songs to the dead, to the wolves in the trees, in the cold. you feel so ugly wanting everything you could never have, because no matter what you get you want more, your body craves more.

one, two...

your skin grows so fucking tight, hot, unbearable, you just want it to be cold again. wet. slick. open a vein and watch it go down, down, down, drain it out and hope the thoughts go with it. an entirely different animal, this night. the walls are close to your shoulders. faces gleaming in the moonlight, voices like swan songs, low and mournful. wrap your hands in spiderwebs and bend the throat back, watch it grow taut, the pulse... fingertips on bloody hips. the rhythm found, the glide of skin in skin on bone. gleams of silver in the moon. how bad a woman does this make you? fever dreams, drag your nails down this back and watch it split and lick the copper away, nightmares telling you you aren't good enough, you deserve... to be what is before you, laid out, in this awful wicked place. you should be.

one.

you should be what you can never have. you should taste that last breath and you should destroy it all and leave the bones for the wolves, you should roll in the mess of this, skin bloody and eyes on fire and body wet and you wonder... who could love a monster like this?

who would fuck a monster like this? take you in their arms and... love the blood away.

all for the moment. live for the moment.

feeling dangerous. feeling wild. untamed. there's no wives here, no sisters, mothers, girlfriends, lovers... wicked wicked angel with the broken wings, black seraph... won't you sing a love song for this dearly departed girl thing, thighs wet, eyes wide, skin painted, resting on a throne of bones.

you'd die inside her, you'd die inside her.

let her give you the chance.

there's nothing left.

none.