and, lo, there are chains of rot wrapped about my form, dragging me down into depths of grey insanity, suffocating me with touch gentle and terrible, 'strickting blood and breath in equal parts until everything in me starts to go quiet
bring me color
bring me sound
bring me a masterpiece writ into your own flesh that I may breathe again and turn rot to roses
lest i fall forever
drown forever
be lost forever
please.
save me.
Here's the thing. If some of the people you encountered today were decoy people-- the equivalent of an anglerfish's lure-- you wouldn't know.
You wouldn't know because if you had triggered those lure-people, you'd be gone. And if you could recognize them for what they were, the species that uses those unsuccessful lures would have died out.
They watched you go by and you never noticed.
Keep looking at your phone.
cold settles on my skin and i put on a jacket
then i remember you like the cold more
so i take it off
the car is hot when we get into it and you pull a face
then you keep me from turning the ac on for a little bit longer
so i can enjoy it
somewhere between us there is a tepid degree
somewhere in the middle we are not burning hot or freezing cold
somewhere there is a midground where we are both equally uncomfortable
i don't want to find that place
i don't mind being cold for while
stay with me
A Thanatolatrist invites you to spend time in a grave with your name on it.
It is not a curse, but a blessing.
Understand, what I see in Death is not for ill, or for terror. It is a comfort I offer, the unending embrace, and I would have you know it once before it takes you forever.
The ground is cool, and all is still. Take a deep breath, you'll be here a while.
did you know in the spaces between the betweens in my bones they whisper your name with a reverence that shakes the foundations of the world
did you know that there's not a breath i can take without whispers of your glory filling my lungs
how about how when i lay down at night that i reach for the spot you're never in and curl myself into the void you left there
the refrains of a dozen of your touches down my spine echo in the dark
i'd call you a cryptid but that implies you're actually here
can't tell if I want to tear your clothes, or my skin off.
it'd feel nice either way.
could you imagine the struggle to know what it's like to not know the desire and war between blood and sex and joy and misery because it's certainly nothing i'd recommend.
still.
you probably taste better than the blood and you've got a body built for every dark fantasy and dream that haunts my in-betweens.
sorry about the mess, i'll buy you something nicer to wear and ruin that too, ruin that too, goddamn
You ever look at someone and see the what led to the two of you being in the wrong places at the wrong time? Taste the tears you could've wiped away, hear the laments of loneliness that they still carry in them that you could soothe if you had only been given the chance?
Do you ever look at them and tell yourself that there's no what if because there's no way for there to be one anyway so it doesn't matter anyway but then your glass of rum still tastes like you think they do?
Just me?
ok
M Van Vleet
Doktor Kirche
Dao Bot