Frustration and apathy bubble out of my lungs. Foam at the mouth. Pursed lips squelching hope and determination.
I lean down again and I tighten sutures of ambivalence on ten tones of skin. Sewing bits and pieces of the old and different lovers together to try and recreate Recreation. My whipstitch technique is sharpened into needle-points and then punched into flesh over and over. Honed keen by Eastern-style practice. Necromantic acupuncture.
See. My skill is not the detriment. The shoddy materials are the prolific hindrance. The remnants of remembered pleasure can't mask the unnatural look and feel of shambling remains. I try and breathe new life into broken shells; I only manage to exhale clouds of frustration, failure and loss into dead and empty ribcages.
This is my punishment for trying to resurrect a deicided goddess in the trappings of a random human husk.
10:04 p.m. - 2014-10-09
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
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Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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