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| The trickster twists and turns astride the innocence he stole and wrecked in his latest joyride through your soul. His forked-tongue spreads cold trails of untruth on your skin like dirty oil, the sickness of raw fear is resurrected. Everyone you ever turned away from, everything you ever lost, is captured in the liar�s eyes who is now touching you, where it hurts the most your defenses are too wildly fashioned, scattered, useless on the barbed wires of abuse that sent you spiraling into this space� he knows just how to touch you, where it hurts the most He savours every shudder of your shock, as image after image is replayed then strangled in your black mind of oblivion. He dips his claw in pain and tastes the echo of a fist on tainted flesh, the final slam of doors when love died, and you left, or she cheated, then they let you down... he loves it, and you, and he knows just how to touch you, where it hurts the most And he is smiling fondly as the demons crowd your mind... So what will you do now that his tongue is sliding over every curve and you feel more broken than your heart? Shall you open your soft insides so that he can drag you by the entrails to a realm where manic pleasure blooms in the destruction of your soul? he knows just how to touch you, where it hurts the most |
| art: henry fuseli |
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