poetic deaths

Feeling: evil
suffer. i'm already suffering. but this awlful suffering stops as i stretch your dried skin on my canvas and paint with your crimson blood a portrait of you. i'm twitching and bleeding, but you're here to comfort me, in your still swaying form that hangs reliably up-side-dwn. i smile. swimming in the blood that pours out of your nose and ears. bliss. pure bliss.
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thank you for caring for me even though you didn't know me
[Anonymous]