Like a Being of the NightMature
My tale is one of sorrow. Or is it one of insanity? Im still not really sure. But I feel so trapped inside my mind these day. Maybe I'm dreaming. No, dreams would be more satisfying than this.
My current lethargic state is due to the pain I feel, pain words fail to describe. I can only, so simply and eloquently put, that this pain was enough to make me writhe and howl like the being of the night, tortured by their own nature.
And I guess that is how I am. Tortured by the very fabric or who I am, of how my mind works. I long for the blood, the screaming. My blood, my screaming. And maybe, just maybe, yours, too.
But my blood, my screaming, isn't very satisfying. Not after a while, even though the unbearability was always sort of beautiful while it lasted. But no, not enough.
Thank the gods for her.
My lover, my poor, poor lover. I sit simply in the wake of my own self-destruction, and she simply sits watching, letting me have my way. It so cute. So sad.
Yet so satisfying.
To hear her beautiful screams, to taste her lovely tears. Though she's started to stop. Stop the screaming, and the flow of her beautiful, wondrous tears. She now lays, just as lethargic as I.
So, this is my current state, my current lethargic state. I lay and write and howl like the tortured beings of the night, next to my silenced lover. Oh, how beautiful she is. How beautiful. If only, if only I could hear her scream again.