A/N: *whimper…?* I need a teddy bear. This is the product of very little sanity at… oooh, 'round midnight? I honestly can't really explain this, other than it's a trek into the warped mind of Hiead. Bit of background being he's fucking around with Zero when he's feeling vulnerable and alone, because Erts has gone off to GIS. Some of it rhymes, some of it doesn't, and that's okay. It hit me as I was pouring a glass of orange juice, and I ran upstairs like a bat out of hell to write it down. It won't make much sense, but that's Hiead for you. Uh… I won't say enjoy. …It's impossible to enjoy this. …Tolerate it? *hopeful smile*
Disclaimer: I do not own Candidate for Goddess, dammit. If I did, Ernest would be live, kicking, and shagging the daylights out of Garu. …Dammit.
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Tick-Fucking-Tock---
Watch and wait
Silent, ever-quiet,
Sit up straight,
Don't talk, react.
Cold and still
Like tempered steel
And patient, yes,
So very patient for this.
You walk and move like
Somebody's dream, like
Somebody's fantasy, and I
Keep craving more. Keep
Craving your whines and
Sexual whimpers, like
Brittle Christmas candy
In the middle of July.
Splay your arms and legs
Just so, yes, and bite your--
Bite my lip just so, yes,
And whine like the little
Bitch you are, yes.
Don't you worry, precious,
When I'm above you,
Like an angel with a death fetish.
The clock it whirrs, it's
Half past 3 in the morning,
My sweet you must be tired;
But oh, no, I am not.
Tick-tick-fucking-tock, dear,
Can you hear it in your
Pretty, empty, little head,
Or are you screaming it all away?
He can't help you now, dear,
He's far, oh so far away.
And you're here, you're right
Here below me, stripped and
Glistening like a crushed and broken
Lily. And for a moment, just
A moment, precious, I feel guilt,
Ebbing at my empty soul.
With every surging bout between us,
Do you see his gentle blue eyes?
Do you see the ocean, my sweet,
Not the flames that threaten
To swallow you whole where you lie?
Do you imagine that glistening field of gold,
Dear, as it entwines with your sensuous mocha,
And clings to your sweat-soaked face?
Do you imagine your sex toy?
Your fuck boy?
Your killjoy?
Don't be coy.
And the clock ticks on,
And still he doesn't come.
Too bad, so sad.
What a shame.
Can you cry my name,
Or is your throat burnt raw?
With my fire, my passion,
My devious desires?
Why are you so fucking quiet, dear?
Why wont you tell me who owns you,
Dear? Why wont you tell me to stop,
Dear? Why are you crying?
Click-click, whirr,
It's over. All over.
The world could end,
And I'm so, so, cold;
This game is so, so old.
Tick-tock, like an echo:
Volatile, and fades to nothingness.
Like your broken, shattering sobs.