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The Death-Charmer

Hate me. It only makes me love you more.

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[28 Dec 2007|08:50pm]
Young enough. Reflect on years. That's... that's what this is about. Yes, let's year-in-review. Visit tragedies and miseries and the sex. The violence. The death. Get a VH1 crew in here to do the cameos, pan in, zoom out, catch every nuance off the glance of lens on film.

So I'm young enough to still count time in years. Days in minutes. I don't... I don't apologize for that. I have been wandering the last year, lost and driftless. I tried my own place just outside the city, left not too long after. Found David, fought. It feels like everything I've done has been done in these... fragmented chunks. Like I could slice them out with a scalpel and turn them over in my hands and examine them. Root my fingers around in the detritus of my life and really get dirty, right down to my elbows.

God... is that what I want? To make a mess of this? To be the fucking lunatic he thinks I am?

No, no. He looks at me like... like he loves me. Like he loves me and I betrayed him. I promised him the sweetness, the saccharine; I said it'd never die. I did that. And I let something fester inside me, crawl up and burrow deep, worm its mealy resentment right into my heart.

I am wrong. I was wrong. So I left. Tore myself out of there, bat-out-of-hell. I laugh at the analogy. Whatever. I got myself gone... not like he needs the crazy place my head's in - was.

But I spent a little time... elsewhere. Watching. I can't say I was doing more good than harm, to do so would negate all the blood on these hands even now... but, but I tried. I think of the look on his face. Jesus. The look. The way the gentle lines, so soft, drew severe. The way his eyes darkened. And I want to fall on my knees. Pray, "Father, forgive me." Draw my hand just... oh God... just there. "Don't you see? Don't you see I can't share your proximity without want and need and... to climb inside, like a cancer. To consume every part of you for myself. To draw out the old, to make you... anything, everything. You gave me this and I can't be within arms length without choking on the magnitude of what we are. Things I could never be with..."

And that's the point. The point. The sharp and finite DAGGER FUCKING POINT.

So I stay just off the radar. There are times I feel them. Never David. I wonder if he sends the others, just so he knows I'm safe. I'm well. But I feel them, can sense them. Whatever power I have, it's strong. Fuck all the rest of them with their whispered jealousies. What I have is mine and his and... well, mine and his... and beats like forever in my veins. Maybe we don't have that long, but this love... this love will stay as long as I do.

I wonder. Will I ever become what I once was? Will I return to the sweetheart girl with the heart-shaped mouth, the limpid eyes? To the innocence that once was? Or will I always be some amalgam of these complex worlds - the then, the now, the impending eternity ahead? Could he ever love me that way? Could he ever forgive me for unknowingly lying to him before my life became the paper bird folded tenderly into the palm of his hand?

It's doesn't matter the ground I cover or the days gone by, David Talbot. I was made for you and in your blood I shall live.
Bind Yourself

To Lestah-h-h-h-dt [22 Feb 2007|11:00pm]
I don't miss you.

I'd kill you given half the chance.

What happened to you? You're like one of those sad, washed-up rockstars. Balding, corpulent, pit-stained.

I can't believe I ever fucked you. Ever allowed you to fuck me! God how the mighty have fallen.

Children of a Lesser God [22 Feb 2007|10:00pm]
I'd like to snap his fucking neck. Only to feel every thin bone fissure. And yes, I'm talking about you, Samuel. Lest anyone get it into their head that I'm passive-aggressive. Aggressive, yes. Passive, no. But this is beside the point. I wanted to write about dreaming.

Who was it that used to tell me I'd never dream? Their faces. They seem indistinguishable these days. How is that? I am not so old. I'm only... what? Ambivalent. What excites me? Death. Violence. The promise of gore. Pain. Subtle and severe. Then something I refuse to name.

Whoever it was, they were wrong. I dream. He's so angry he's seething under the dermis. Impulses lost, so quickly regained. Fire in his eyes when he slams me into the wall, his hand around my neck squeezing, squeezing. And I only smile at the pain. I've been waiting for him to do this. For him to suffocate the life from me. "Do it," I whisper, biting into my lower lip, eyes too proud to beg. A defiant tilt of my chin. "Come on, you know you want to. Do it and be done."

But his mouth mashes over mine, hard and so fucking deadly. What he doesn’t wring out with his hands, he sucks out of my mouth and I’m forced to thrash against him just so I can breathe. His words burn my skin, "You fucking bitch! Why, why are you never happy?"

I am. When he's collapsing my knees and falling on top of me. Crushing my bones into the hardwood floor. Murder me. Love me. Hate me. Need me. Scatter my blood through the foyer and down the hall. My blood on your hands wavering up and down the yellowed floral paper.

I can only tell him how much I need him when he's destroying me - from the inside out, from the outside in. Then it's only sinew and tendon, grinding euphoric, and I apologize with my lips and claws.

I'm sorry for the disaster I've become. But not so sorry I'll quit. You'll have to actually do it if you want me to stop.

I _love_ the way you taste [03 Feb 2007|07:15pm]
That's it.

Fucking struggle.

It only tastes this good when you really fight.

[17 Dec 2006|02:15am]
Here is what it is, simplicity -

your death.

It's a heartbeat away.

It beats, as it should now; rhythmically.

Bump, bump.... bump, bump...

A life I shouldn't throw away...

But I'll usher it goodnight.

This is minimalism;

understanding endings have no purpose, when the hammer wastes away...


and even death becomes no more.

Death becomes no more - a frozen heatbeat, unwilling to comply.

Death on the Ganges. [17 Dec 2006|02:06am]
Death on the Ganges.

He doesn't mean it to be a learning experience for me, and yet it is.

Unwillingly he gives the sacrifice and the blood flows so softly into my mouth.

He cries. It’s pitiful. Soft sobs with wracking bows of his spine...

And I drink so deep..
and I drink so deep..
until my mouth is filled with liquid heat.

He cannot be blamed for the lives I take.

Because I do not distinguish from the ones I snatch and the ones so carelessly offered. I take what I want because I can. This is who I am, the monster who gulps down souls with voracity. I consume every greed with purpose, even my own.

It's possible that your pulse is just a misnomer at this point; shifting perspective. Still, I will swallow you whole.

He's the only one that can save your innocence. I won't even offer up the option. We are different killers.

I feel his guilt even though we are a million miles away. I wonder if my indifference is as poisonous to him, as his remorse is to me.

Even the Mona Lisa's Falling Apart [13 Nov 2005|04:29am]
Tyler Durden. Maybe that's all this really is... my own version of Tyler Durden. Insignificant tendrils wrapping around my brain. Let's wake up in Never-Neverland, just to see where we really are.

I wake up on the train. At that time it was the L. Caught somewhere between Congress and Old LaSalle. The track vibrations are heavy in my ears; just as rhythmic as the pulse. Dun-dun-dun-duh. Dun-dun-dun-duh.

Three minutes. This is it, ground zero.

The lights flicker. Movement passes incongruously. Like I’m drunk on fucking alcohol, I want to go. I want to make love to the woman’s wrist who sits beside me.

It’s a clumsy fucking sentence, but you know what I mean? I want to wrap my lips around the pulsation and drink her down until there’s nothing left but sobs and whispers.

Jackson and State. The doors open. They slide back on rusty hinges and set my cargo free. God-damned-electronic-redemption! Giving everyone its sharp benevolence and just when I would get a meal!

The little car sways beneath us once more. Dun-dun-dun-duh. Dun-dun-dun-DAH. I can’t help but size up the next contender. Tell me they don’t want to be me. Tell me they don’t want to have the option.

I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not.

And it’s clear and it’s certain that I am that man. I am your Tyler Durden.

The next time the lights flicker, three people are dead. I’ve made my way around from place to place, heartbeat to heartbeat, and robbed them all blind. I’m fucking high on their memories as we pull into the station.

Swinging around on the metal pole I finally get off...

It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything.

Ain't that the truth.

Wake the Dead [11 Nov 2005|12:45am]
Weapons are teeth; angry, seething hands that score flesh and shred it from the bone. Blood-covered bodies half buried in sand, give way to ruins that crumble in broken empires. Eyes burn demonic, even in the mid-day sun, while a hunger thrives for power, corruption and device.

I have one vision of Enkil and it's nothing I could explain... it's dark and venomous and filled with blood and pain. And what I want to know, more than how I have come to possess such vision, is how he came to have any power at all... this power ... our power.

Maharet still sleeps and I'm unsure that anything cognizant has ever come from Mekare. David has given me hope though and it lies within Khayman.

Whatever it is that I have awoken, I hope it's as easy to lull back to sleep...

Kilimanjaro [05 Nov 2005|02:15am]
She is sleeping and I wish that she might stay that way. The mother-voice inside my head; the demon.

I moved mountains last night when I found my way back home and stood before my Maker. Such raw, red eyes I have never seen. A haunted man. Anger and jealousy, the degree in which we feel anything, gave way to temperaments on both sides. But nothing else matters - not one single, solitary thing - beyond his arms around me.

I thought I was in love with Lestat. For years and years and years on end it was his name ~ his name I whispered, twisting the sound into something personal and possessive. But I know now that Lestat was a distraction, a diversion. Let him read the words and sulk like a petulant child. Let him throw a tantrum and burn his house to cinders. Let him fly off in a fit of rage and jealousy and bury himself chin-deep within the mud. Whatever.

I am in love... and only he can keep the demon at bay. That has to account for something.

Right now... it accounts for everything.

I am at home and it is where I shall stay. I never understood the lengths in which he needs me, but now that I do, I will never betray him by leaving his side again... come hell or high water, we are bound.

Fool's Rush In [03 Nov 2005|07:30pm]
Death knows death when they see it. The minute I made eye contact with the man, I could sense it. It wasn't just a feeling traveling up my spine and rooting itself right between my eyes. It wasn't just the budding images; the brutal scenes that were on display like someone's warped home movies. It was the smell; thick and tangy and full of passion. Not a sex smell. Not sweet sticky cunt juices or wads of cum hanging precariously to his boxer shorts - though there had been that too. This was... death.

Death knows death when they see it. For him it was something different; the look in my eye, the light of understanding, followed by stunned... bemusement. Don't get me wrong. I wasn't amused that he had raped and murdered two girls in his apartment. I was just baffled by the fact that I had happened to run across him and that I, and most likely I alone, knew his dirty little secret.

Imagine it, will you? A needle in a fucking haystack! One demented half-wit walking out of the door to a building I wouldn't have even bothered with if it hadn't of been for one night of slumming it... and then BLAM! Like a gunshot! Like a fucking arrow to the target.

He stopped in the shadows that lingered perfectly around the doorframe. As I’ve already said, death knows each other when it meets. My killer eyes, his killer heart. Birds that flock together, only… not so much. I admit to being a killer. It is my nature now. I even admit to enjoying it. I confess to loving it all… the sight, the smell, a little song and dance, a little showmanship – the sport, the game! Whatever.

But not like this one. Not like this guy. The demon inside of me wanted to know this twisted monkey’s secrets. The angel in me thought it was better just to break his neck and have done with it.

So that’s what I did. I broke his neck without any ceremony – on him faster than it could register. Looped an arm around his neck and yanked his head downward while holding his spine stationary. Snap, crackle, pop, well… more like the crackle, pop first, then the snap. Fini.

The thing was I had gleaned the entire scenario before he had died so it wasn’t all over. I climbed the stairs two at a time (sometimes I’m still so human), and kicked open the door to his place. The wood flew apart, splintering, opening up to the horrific scene.

Blood, guts, body parts. Sick shit. Twisted shit. A head in a plastic bag. I’d like to say it didn’t bother me, but it did. If it doesn’t bother you you’ve got no humanity left. I’m still hangin’ on.

On the bed a woman lie splayed mostly unconscious and drenched in too much gore to really sort out in one’s mind. He’d already cut off her arm at the shoulder, had been hacking on her with an axe that sat lodged in an end table.

I flew to her quickly, grabbing the bloodied sheets and tying a tourniquet over her severed pit, covering the stub. She moaned softly, but her head lulled on her neck like a rubber doll.

I told her to stay with me, that help was on the way. I had pulled out my cell phone and called 9-1-1, gave them the address and told them to move (I could dump the phone later if need be). It was the city, though and I knew their Golden-10 was more like a Golden-20 or 30.

I’d propped her up by this time and shook her, lightly slapping her cheeks to try and bring her blood around. I needed to get her heart pumping. I needed some adrenaline racing through those veins.

The pulse was weak and thready. The demon began to claw inside my brains, chewing on my bit of doubt… It’s done already. Just get it over with and let’s get the hell out of here. I knew she was in trouble when the angel did nothing but agree.

I bent closer to her, listening to the death-rattle in her chest, breathing warmth across her cheeks, her neck. I couldn’t help but scowl at the thought of biting into the mess of some other murderer. My mind started harboring images of the tortures of the room, wondering if the stain of this crazed killer could somehow stain my soul if I shared his kill.

Just as I was about to bite down, the sirens caught me from a distance. I did the one thing I could think of at that moment. I screamed. I screamed in her cataleptic face.

“WAKE UP! WAKE THE FUCK UP! Do you hear them? They’re on their way!”

She opened frightened eyes and fought to control their focus, moving limply, trying to get away.

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s right sugar. Fight. Let’s hear that heartbeat thumpin’.”

Muffled moans were more panicked whimpers as I heard EMS climb the stairs. It was time for my exit, but not before one last Hurrah.

I stood close enough to her so she could see my face and in such a disgustingly and deplorable display of vampy theatrics, I hissed, baring my fangs. Dear god, I hated myself at that moment, but it served its purpose. Her heart accelerated, thrusting her blood through those tender arteries just as it should.

That’s when I threw myself through the window and off the balcony, landing on the roof next door. And it had been such a nice night too… god-damned lunatics.
4 bounded | Bind Yourself

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