• Dance with me.
    on a bed of nails.
    Throw your head back, let sound tear your throat raw. Rending the fabric of reality as our pounding footfalls sound out the march of ruin. Twirling with abandon, stir up the dust of which this world is made.

    as dust return to dust
    so I shall make all ash.

    Burn with me.

    I am a porcelain beauty, perfumed roses intertwined with glass-like strands of platinum hair, my lips stained gory (violet? wink ), still sticky from my last meal. I wrap myself in nails, flowing strands of anguish, my bronze body armor.

    It’s still not enough. Cover me with glass, slap me in a gilded frame, cloister me away to a cold sterile gallery, hang me upon the wall, sit back, and
    STARE.

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