Oh, hot, hot burning. Oh desperate, desperate heart. The whole world spins without him, the whole world spins with the lack of a lover's touch. She is but a broken pendulum, a figure of wandering and haphazard swinging, the string of her system tangled in a fuss of anxiety. She peers at the world, a reflective orb that gleams maliciously with faint dreams and a luscious future once fathomable. Oh, how maliciously it gleams. It all seemed to be there to breed agony from her flesh, to deepen the chasm of loathing and worthless pity. Beneath her, the edges of her feet distort in the blackness of the cool and dripping water. Briefly, she could imagine the sinking of her chest, the filmy oxygen parting from her wet nostrils, the bed of crushed stones massaging her ribs. Massaging to sleep, to slumber, to rest. To rest in a bed of water, the romance of a liquid grave. It was all so tempting. It seemed so attractive to sink, attractive to fall....so attractive to cut away and severe the waking
...and heartless...
...moments...
...of time...
A whisper, a whisper, a whisper. It haunts the air, dauntingly, a madness in the tale, coming forth from the mysterious mouth of twilight to devour and claim bodies. Like a broken record it skips, repeated and marching like a soldier, onward, forward—wanting, loving, possessing. So empty, so deprived, it lingers, sitting on the brim of her darkly cupped ears like a spider's crawling appendages. It pricked, it searched, it violated her fully like a blanket shrouding the purity of her body, the saliva in the words weeping with red craving. Filthy, filthy men. The filth of men, how they soiled virgin bodies with their eyes.. She would have it no longer. The breath of flames, the panting and obnoxious thirst of his shaky expression—she would not allow them to have the pleasure. Mourning in privacy, bathing her body, and a man insults her rights with peeping eyes and rapid exhales. How dare he. With her head raising, she prepared her expression, her lids slimming with feminine anger, her silky crest gleaming from above the licking water as she turned about. She turned so slowly, only as quickly as the bath would allow, and her face grew colder in each successful swivel of the hips, her lips a black and dangerous crescent. And she expected to see a sick bruise on the masculine race, the swine of the gender grinning so pink and flat-nosed that she may send hell upon his hide. And then she notices, and notices well, and his only, single, petty excuse parted with a bellowing moan...
A brief moment of silence. Realization. Realization. She nodded at him and slowly opened her eyes, her multi-colored orbs glistening. "No it is fine. I am Insomnia, you can stay if you want to." Her voice was more of a sing-song than a whisper when she said hello.
| Messages In This Thread |