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Aug 2020
I fantasise.
I fantasise about my demise.
Long, drawn out, painful,
And complete bliss.
Countless different ways
Often at the hands of another.
A great powerful being
Who can execute the dance
To the very. End.
I imagine my hands being sawn off.
Gagged and bound.
Each ****** of the saw going
Deeper and Deeper.
Torn flesh, ligaments, bone.
Dazzling white jagged bone.
Glorious contrast against the ****** mess.
You’d love it.
I imagine rope burns from the struggle
Against the ceaseless pain.
I imagine how I would be cursing
Myself for getting us into this.
Cracking
Bones.
Burning
Flesh.
Bruised
Skin.
Oh to be the other half
Of a serial killers fantasy.
Written by
Claira Lymei  20
(20)   
188
   Zoi Ardens and ---
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