the lust of death echoed. two porcelain statues,
remnants from a forensic anthropology class,
smacked against eachother with a resounding
CRACK
as bone hit bone. quietus romanicus...
skeletal fingers carressed the emptiness between ribs,
between each individual spine of the vertebrae,
sending chills throughout the ivory skein of coils
and structures made from the devil's dice.
this is sensual delectation harvested from sleep.
in the very pith and marrow of death is where
everything is readily open to change.
like a collapsing sleep,
the ultimate sexuality is the decay
of that universal overtone by which it is bound.

 iwannabeafaghag...T_T...;_;...
make me malakoi....
i will be his fruit fly...
queen magnet... swish dish.... T_T....
everyonehateshime....everyonemakeshimhatehimself....
razy.....he uses razy....like sanzen....sanzen....
maybe he used to/still does..[love him...].... thin.... spindly....
 ....justwantmalakoimade....makehim....
specs...stats...personality....make
.......m.a.k.e..........please.....
please.... p . l . e . a . s . e ...........;_;....................t.t
.................y.o.u...m.a.k.e.............
............and he has three kitties named pity, grief, and boon...
the only pussy he's ever had... [lame in-joke]....
and he fights with slicyslicy...
horridly embellished/enchanced one-molecule-thin edged scalpels,
flowing sheets of razor used like matador flag....
body gear with blades affixed on them like ice skates...
either 17... or same age as Mr.de los santos....
must be witty... have wit like de los santos....
cruel...
bitter....
jaded....
t.t...