absinthe abstinence

Dwell here, my pet. Curl at my feet and I will feed you in sweets cut from ragged cloth that once adorned false prophets. You can taste the promise of their salvation in the creases of their garments.

I, too, will lead you astray. I will touch you possessively with a light hand and then beat you cruelly in my silence. My disciples are many, but they know it not. They will worship you in sympathetic stares and false compassion.

I will crumble your foundations of stone and stillness. I will hold you up just long enough for you to see how far you have to fall.

So dwell here, in absinthe abstinence, and wait for me.

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