On a pale horse

Jac, you kill me. You’re a fucking writing phenom. ❤

The Perilous Reading Society

Tonight you kill someone. Not a faraway kind of killing like a bullet or a button. Or a word. Misheard. Just the tearing of skin, and sin spliced out on the lathe

A sigh. Perhaps? He mumbles incoherence, poetry caught in the softness of drunken debut. And curled on his chest, the creature takes it close. Drooling silk in chorded symphony. Slipping and sliding whispers through his veins, his heart, his kiss. Click. Turn. Click. Turn. Another sigh. Deeper this time. Harder to take back. And inside his dream he sees time fused nuclear in endless ticking. Dust and bones on the evening air as the song of last becomes the howl of the first.

The creature leans closer, breath to breathe. And it rolls silent in victory as the sweet of his flesh fades, bled dry in dreams of all the colours that weren’t red.

And he fights. Yes…

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