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"I should have thought twice before skinning my teeth, am I killing time or is time killing me?" Alexander Jean
“And there are corpses,
feet made of cold and sticky clay,
death is inside the bones,
like a barking where there are no dogs,
coming out from bells somewhere, from graves somewhere,
growing in the damp air like tears of rain.”
(Nothing but Death) ~Pablo Neruda~
Shh, can you hear them? Gnarled whispers in dark shadows, pimpling the skin as the hairs rise at the base. Flickering tongues curl around the spine, teasing between the vertebrae as the shiver slips down. They can smell it you know, those tell tell pearls of cold sweat trickling down, down, down, sliding into the crook of a trembling navel. Numb to the core, burrowing into that warmth, the chittering stretches...
A sliver too dark, a thread too near, the pitch unfurls. Seated and steeped in the air, like a tarnish, nestling between a shudder of the lungs. Closer, so close now…you feel them, sense them, drawing you in, licking at the slightest twitch of each trembling fiber. So sweet, oh so sweet to their knurled lips. A knowing forms…you know don’t you? That lying here amongst them you are not but your skin…so fragile…
Shriveled chords quiver, a soured tittering lingers, a prickling subtle pulse amidst the shell of the ear. Nettled barbs tease within the acrid ebb and flow of the veins. Tethered slivers wrap, cradling the stuttered thrum between each rib. Slick fingerings tease along taut sinews, coaxing a dark melody of tainted desire. Slowly, they do suckle, as you slip, slip, slip into the dim…
“Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.”
(The Second Coming) ~’W. B. Yeats’s~
Whispering curtesy of Hellblade:Senua's Sacrifice
Very proud member of both this House and this Alliance!!
