A Slight of Hand

by Blue_Notebook

With the abyss’s crown darkening the blankness of my visage, Nietzsche at my boot uttering layers of ideas, the cold seeping through the thin of my nakedness caused by the caustic throne melted into my body, I wonder. I wonder, dear little creature who stands an arm’s length before me shivering at the empty of my kingdom, will you take the same wings divested from Lucifer just to escape for warmth? or can you stay with your flickering purity, knowing that the embrace you fell for will be devoured by the roses that pricked a thousand suns to death?

Allow me to consume more life, dear little creature of the light. If you can hold on to the pain you witness, to the stench of blood and macabre suffering, do. For I have served aeons tearing skin from bones, disproving the proofs I provided for survival, and it will only be you dabbing holy water to my damnation once you choose to disappear. The night’s illusion, the morning’s anxiety, and the afternoon’s madness. Angel, temptation, God.

Blink again for another thousandth of time.

I wish you close your eyes often, dear little creature. I wish to spare you the terror as I spare myself of my own reflection in those golden irises.

Graviora quaedam sunt remedia periculis. Habere, non haberi. Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur.

Author’s Note: Credits to the owner of the picture used (I couldn’t find who made it but I saw it from Pinterest https://imgur.com/Wg84N9b and here. I’ll find you and credit you properly once I did find you.

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