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.