If furnished the opportunity he would be adulterous. After all he alleged women of the real world ought to copy and emulate women in the reel one.
Steel flashes performed behind her eyelids. It was picturesque. Silver strings of teeth submerged into flesh and sweet crimson pooled up beneath. Captivating incisions made a smirk tease her lips. But how could flesh open when flesh wasn’t flesh at all?
The necropolis summoned her. Cries of the departed resonated in her ears and she squinted. Muscle trees growled in anguish, their eyes bleeding beads in their plump trunks. On their stripped branches emaciated fingers proliferated. They wiggled and coiled inward as she crawled closer. Bathed in a maroon luminosity her head tilted toward the sky. A blood sphere hung there.
Fingers brush and stroke sweet flesh; excited and allured senses with simple silken circles and whisks. Warmth beneath warmth blankets souls as it carries with it the tools of grace and brilliance, loyalty and gentleness. Caresses from a rose are sweet, but caresses from an eternal flame sizzle for all time and burn in more than loins.
Bliss empowers the mind and enslaves the senses. Neither a brush nor a keystroke is needed. It doesn’t see color. Scales fall from eyes. Truth is fully seen. Many will succumb to better forces. Many will prove love triumphs.
Secluded bliss and royal sensations befall the most loyal expectations. As kisses, warm and moist, make a line for sensitive kernels of flesh sounds of delight are fresh.
Still, even when bodies rise and fall, the question lingers and carries on ecstasy's call. Is lust all there is to benefit from?
This is our plight night after night. Though we are separated by nations we are comprised of the same creations. Every little and large manifestation, whether natural or an instrument of man; contrasts the world in which they are born. Every shape and size is predetermined, well thought out, and thus manipulated for individual purpose. The same cannot be said for the one thing we have absolutely no control over and can only admit with certainty drives us in life: emotion. It can be the warmth in our veins or the cold in our heart; might be justified and clearly opposed, but we all experience it from time to time and not at all on a relatively planned basis. Ultimately it can define who we are and he core on which we thrive.
And within us all are two extremes: love and hate. Hate is the destructive assortment favored by weapon wielding radicals. Love is the constructive accomplishment destined to bring people together regardless of greed and deed.
Serrated and perverse shafts sprouted from the skyline like putrefied carcasses. Her distinct stature established hillside as she transferred her weight to one hip. From a heart of pure chaos, their design forged. Mythical mystique coursed through ancient maelstroms. Why should now be any different?
She nestled herself in a corner, knees drawn under her chin and she waited.
Pallid fragmented tile hailed expired appendages as they birthed color, copper perfume and uniformity. Overhead burning artificial beams reflected on it almost as though urging it along in its journey toward a slumped heap in the corner.
A dirt caked face lifted under a halo of untidy hair. Her tongue slid across her lips as she bent to lap at the salty juice. Her jaw twitched, her hooded eyes rolled back into her skull and the column of her throat protruded as it skated down her gullet.
Life of the damned resides in a perpetual nightmare of its own creation. As one by one they fall like fruit from a tree time will crawl to a stop. Reality bleeds into dimensions science and religion can never explain. Answers are not to be had.
Bone shifted beneath bulging meat as a spasm tore from her forehead to her chin. On all fours her body shivered-
-as Hell’s fortune snapped ligaments like twigs-
-as sinew divided, ivory branches fractured and gray matter spilled forth from a bone bowl. Bleached flexible organs whipped madly from the yawning chasm as they stretched skyward.