• followerofartemis 6w

    Assasination:Task 47

    Fleeting combat, tiring fire
    Bending through my blood and,
    Then, drawing into my lips.
    Sinking deep inside my frame.
    Sticking. Reeking. Peeling.
    Perhaps this is how the blood
    Flows when you decide it
    Must be fixed. Trembling unto
    pages. Thinly sliced. Diced
    And they follow, conquer.
    We've won, mission complete.

    And you thought I was crazy before.