Monday, September 26, 2011

The sun rose this morning. It was red, like blood. Like the blood on me.

On my hands, on my clothes, on my sword, on my knives.

I don't want to wash it off anymore. In fact, I want more of it.

The sight, the smell, the feel, the taste of the blood. Even the sound of it splattering on the ground. All of it.

It's so delightful, so fulfilling.

Now I know why Darby enjoyed what he did.


As of today, the score is:
Lucien: 23
Proxies: 1

3 comments:

  1. LUCIEN.

    FUCK

    Don't you dare fall into that hole. Don't you dare slip. You've come too far to do that. You've made it out of something horrible, now don't become like it.

    Pull yourself together Lucien. Find refuge in something else. Don't let yourself fall so fast so hard.

    PULL YOURSELF TO-FUCKING-GETHER LUCIEN. YOU'RE BECOMING LIKE THEM.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Heh. Isn't this a tad of a problem for you...

    ReplyDelete