Shiver.
Cold, depth, dark. Darkness everywhere.
In everything I see, everything I touch. It all eventually turns to ashes.
Shut out the world, close myself off. Been there. Tried that.
Never worked.
Still, the darkness keeps pushing its boundaries and grips me tightly to its breast, never quite relinquishing its hold. I can feel its applause every time I shrug off my mental barriers and allow myself to feel right. Whole. Perfect. True.
I can always sense it laughing behind me as I slip up.
Because I always slip up.
It's not just enough to fear it and loathe it, no; it wants to push me in just the right places. Force me to choose.
I always choose the darkness.
They say I brood too much. I've a right if you ask me.
Because, every time I choose, I condemn them. The ones who try to help me, fix me, need me. I condemn them to a life where they don't ever know who I am. I'm grateful that they care, truly, but I accept my choice, move past it, push it behind me.
Atleast I did until I was called out on it.
Ah, there's the kicker. My tucked away desires and darkness found a way out once, found a way to escape without me realizing it.
It took its time, slowly seeping out from the cracks with each confrontation until it was all that I had left during every confrontation. And now it gnaws at the corner of my mind, slipping in and out with temptation on its heels, begging me to find that lawyer and smash his pretty little head in. Just let myself go one more time, let myself be what I was meant to be. Let myself feel the exquisite pleasure of flesh on flesh, pain and bruises. Pain and bruises that only I am allowed to give him. I can feel that short tether fray every time I draw blood and I can feel it's screaming as, every time, I don't drink. It's all I can do to muffle its call.
Still doesn't stop me from craving it though.
And it's all I can do to not just fuck him six ways from Sunday because I know he craves it as much as I do. Needs it as much as I do. Every time I go back to give him hell, I can feel it. Feel his pulse quickening and his eyes flicker with no small amount of lust and want.
Doesn't hurt that I can smell it, as sweet and intoxicating as it is. I could smell it from a block over, it's that strong. That overpowering. That beautiful.
I always tell myself I'll stop fucking with him. Stop craving the simple want-need of beating him senseless. That I'll just give it up and tell him I'm done with it.
And I thought Spike was the one with the lying complex.
Either way, that damned darkness always comes back and whispers its half growl, half purr voice in my ear. Tells me all the different ways I could torture Lindsey and still keep him alive for months. Tells me how he likes being held by the neck, his windpipe slowing restricting, more then being simply punched or kicked. Tells me I knew this since I first started the game, that slow sweet torturous seduction. And with all the lies and half truths it feeds me, I'm never that surprised when I finally say to hell with it and go back for more.
I always do.
And I know that one day, one day I'll go back for more and I won't stop. I won't want to stop.
And that's the day the darkness will smile.
Cold, depth, dark. Darkness everywhere.
In everything I see, everything I touch. It all eventually turns to ashes.
Shut out the world, close myself off. Been there. Tried that.
Never worked.
Still, the darkness keeps pushing its boundaries and grips me tightly to its breast, never quite relinquishing its hold. I can feel its applause every time I shrug off my mental barriers and allow myself to feel right. Whole. Perfect. True.
I can always sense it laughing behind me as I slip up.
Because I always slip up.
It's not just enough to fear it and loathe it, no; it wants to push me in just the right places. Force me to choose.
I always choose the darkness.
They say I brood too much. I've a right if you ask me.
Because, every time I choose, I condemn them. The ones who try to help me, fix me, need me. I condemn them to a life where they don't ever know who I am. I'm grateful that they care, truly, but I accept my choice, move past it, push it behind me.
Atleast I did until I was called out on it.
Ah, there's the kicker. My tucked away desires and darkness found a way out once, found a way to escape without me realizing it.
It took its time, slowly seeping out from the cracks with each confrontation until it was all that I had left during every confrontation. And now it gnaws at the corner of my mind, slipping in and out with temptation on its heels, begging me to find that lawyer and smash his pretty little head in. Just let myself go one more time, let myself be what I was meant to be. Let myself feel the exquisite pleasure of flesh on flesh, pain and bruises. Pain and bruises that only I am allowed to give him. I can feel that short tether fray every time I draw blood and I can feel it's screaming as, every time, I don't drink. It's all I can do to muffle its call.
Still doesn't stop me from craving it though.
And it's all I can do to not just fuck him six ways from Sunday because I know he craves it as much as I do. Needs it as much as I do. Every time I go back to give him hell, I can feel it. Feel his pulse quickening and his eyes flicker with no small amount of lust and want.
Doesn't hurt that I can smell it, as sweet and intoxicating as it is. I could smell it from a block over, it's that strong. That overpowering. That beautiful.
I always tell myself I'll stop fucking with him. Stop craving the simple want-need of beating him senseless. That I'll just give it up and tell him I'm done with it.
And I thought Spike was the one with the lying complex.
Either way, that damned darkness always comes back and whispers its half growl, half purr voice in my ear. Tells me all the different ways I could torture Lindsey and still keep him alive for months. Tells me how he likes being held by the neck, his windpipe slowing restricting, more then being simply punched or kicked. Tells me I knew this since I first started the game, that slow sweet torturous seduction. And with all the lies and half truths it feeds me, I'm never that surprised when I finally say to hell with it and go back for more.
I always do.
And I know that one day, one day I'll go back for more and I won't stop. I won't want to stop.
And that's the day the darkness will smile.