I dance on the brink of an abyss. A jutting fall that hangs
over an infernal mob. The tethered chains holding me out for the unknown to
devour. Malicious irony cutting into the bloated veins of feather-soft
nightmares. Incoherent shapes leaking out meaning for the blind to ignore and
for me to breathe from.
Crawling out of their dens are the demons who are your
soul-mates in disguise. Love was what you did not want and wrath is what they
granted. So take their gift with grateful hands and smile in shallow contempt.
Their vigils have not been wasted, at least. They caught the
worst that hell could give, the best that heaven could spare.
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