|
|
Tuesday, February 11, 2003
.
Im still obsessed with the idea. Its consuming me. A sharp breath, a slight turn of conversation and a different iteration of this one pungent thought taks over my brain. I can smell her blood, taste the iron of it in my mouth, and the slight acrid scent of urine in the background. What is this flight of fancy and why won't it leave me? I blink and Beethoven fills my ears a ssparkling and grandiose as the scalpel slipping in. manic joy. I blink again and ichor streams down my arms to the admonishments of VelvetAcidChrist. The tactile pulse of Closer is her entrails slipping through my hands like fish without skin.
.