S&M [30922]
what types of conversation will there be?
Tucked into the crows feet of your aging smile, you’ve collected the spit of your peers as they talked you into smalldom. A tiny, fragile piece of nothing you’ve become these days, Margaret yet here you are. Two legs, knees knocking, in my fucking face… So i’m listening….
She wanted those words to make her skin pimple. She wanted to burn a son where men could only bore apples yet could conjure nothing. not even the void looked into her. It could. perhaps it at one point even thought about it. But sitting here arms hanging limp but not heavy at her sides, nothing would bother with something that wouldn’t bother with it- yanno. Nothing in her neck cracked as she arched her shoulders like a cat and rolled her entire head, cartoonishly, demonstrating just how unamused she was.
Sluss,
yes, Margaret
Can’t we just both be tired of this by now?
no, Margaret
His eyes almost seemed to sprinkle the reflection of lips too moist from a mouth producing too much saliva. he didn’t smile but what he did, seared a bit when her glance caught it. that was the entire power he had all of this time over everything. something that seared a bit when your glance caught it, but not before. maybe not even after. how had long had it been now? So long people even had begun to gossip and tell the story wrong. which, honestly, tells you nothing.
But i am tired and this needs to be dealt with. they’re just suffering at this point.
Sluss’ lips made a sharp m shape as he rubbed the bottom corner of his chin. he liked these games with her. she used to even believe them. that he cared, that he was considering.
But Margaret,
his breath was hot and smelled.
if they all die then it’s just you and me. you don’t have the resolve to hate me infinitely and we have so much time left. Why should I care about them? Why do you care about them? You don’t even miss your father.
Her teeth gnashing into her lips as dry as they were caused them to bleed. He didn’t know this nor would he have ever assumed it even could’ve been something other than the passion he filled her with.
Then it will be you and I, you ugly wretched piece of shit. you will listen to my wailing and my remembrance. you will suffer my melancholy. And, you will rot away in the boredom of my sorrow. it will just be you and I, and I will make you fucking miserable.
the toad face her wet eyes focused on was wider, longer, and something much closer to truth than the yellow brick road.