Insidious Ecstasy

By: Bayl Posted on: September 30, 2015

The sickening wet sound of the

nail peeling back and the nail

going in. The explosions of red

heat beyind my grook eyes,

my wet and viscous skin

shivering in the fog

of Mhaldor, this frog

of Mhlador has seen red and white and

black all over and knows the secrets.

How lovely, you are, my dear, skinless

and dripping here in the dungeons of

the Fortress, ready for your purification:

ready for Him, the one that knows, the

fire-veined King and the once-split

Prince, oh how lovely indeed.

Pain is relative. All is relative. Blood money,

bloodsport, bloodlust, and sanguine humours

all here with me in the black heart of a black house.

My skin sizzles with the brand and I have traced

the teachings of this place with my webbed

fingers until the nerves and arteries were

wracked like an infidel before the gallows.

Oh, heathens, oh children of the Light,

how I dream of your innards on warm summer

eventides and think on your hollow bones.

It is sublime, these reveries of the midnight

path and in the unbearable heat of the

moment I have seen the face of my

future staring back from the mirror of the Black

City. It is beautiful. You, too, can be beautiful,

weak thing, but it will take work.

Are you prepared? Are you ready?

Come. Be beautiful with me.

It only hurts for a moment.

For a lifetime.