Divine
Whore
-
all painted
up like a French Dessert, something born from an acid-head’s candy cane
nightmare, succulent black lips stretched over her ivory sharpened fangs,
the faceless masses sit in blissful rapture absorbing her, the traces of
her tongue evoking images of fleeting lust, followed by disgust, in which
they can only turn in on themselves to retch in the
corner
and curl into pools of piss and blood, as she laughs softly at their putridity,
tapping her tapered burgundy wine nails along cracked stone surfaces in
a mocking death march, binding them to watch every flash of her alabaster
throat, poor dejected worms who deserve no better, delighting in their
shock as she moves, and the tiny wires enshrouding
her
form draw thin lines of blood, barely a trickle, but horrifying in its
effect, horror mirrored in the terrible pleasure sparkling in her amethyst
eyes, walking among them like a messiah, thrusting them head first in to
all the ugly places that they deny they walk, continuing unabated, trembling
in near ecstasy, until halted by a voice embracing its maniacal
desires,
and eyes seeking hers with a vengeful fervor, eyes as seductive in their
honesty as hers in their mystique, lovingly tracing barbs down her flesh,
gouging her meat simply to watch her writhe, brushing past her lashes,
up her thighs, through her gore and essence, shrouded in silk and steel,
cradling her, the most deviant of whores, as if she were the divinest of
angels
.
-Moon
Sidhe © 1999