The closing of space is mutual, the decision to breach intimacy through controlled violence less so. Kindled necessity, sparked by the span of my fingers in measuring the distance between your throat and breasts, a reflection of the prophecy you inhaled before my hand ever found your skin. I am forced to read you from the inside, interpretation divested of meaning, a distillation of truth that suffers in comparison to your sins.
—
Innumerate, the paths you betrayed, a brutal sundering of limbs until a single road is laid stretched before you.
What dark visage did you imagine awaited you at its end?
I already know the face you hope to see. You would treat with the devil in the hope his lack of mercy is enough to make you bleed real tears. His are the true lies, the honest deceit, the silk beneath the amber, and he can cut deep, deep enough to exhume what nestles closest to your heart.
he will eviscerate you.
His fingers will never touch your entrails to see the unspooling of your life. He will not condone your hopes or give credence to your fears. He will not tell you of promised love or chances lost. All becomes irrelevant when your future belongs to him. He will rearrange your insides until they mirror his own vision of what you are to be.
It is bloody work, and once it is complete, he will lick his fingers clean.
he will eviscerate you. -i only hope
wow, such power in so few words. thanks for the peek.
S