Police climbed through the window to find anarchic writing and binary scrawled around the walls. The room smelled of blood and fecal matter. Bodies were found piled in the attic. Each one had it's lips torn off. Eaten. Bite marks visible below the nose and above the chin. No trace of the metallic traxoline humanoid. Autopsy of the queen shows large amounts of Radium in the shape of a smaller human throughout her body, outlining her own. Her lips still in place, but oddly green. (Look further.)
kisss me back. pleas i need your lips something my skin is igreen and i cantn feel myself. 0110001001101100011001010110111001100100 i shoudlnt have come not without-
i'm 01101110011011110111010000100000011001100110111101101100011011000110111101110111011010010110111001100111. they'll never take me away her away i remember the little boy on the corner of the street in my attic his lips weren't enough 011101110110100001111001
she's like me now she's grey she's... gone. she said she'd never leave me please god help me give me strength let me overcome let me adapt she's mine she'll NEVER BE THEIRS
Their chanting gets louder. Maybe my eardrums are simply growing. I don't know. I'm stuck in the corner. I don't want to look back. I miss those lips. I miss the taste. It disappeared. I touch my face. The metal is growing colder. i need her...
Auburn. Black. How does that happen? Is she finally rotting? She still smells beautiful to me. Her lips still taste the same to me. The rapping is still the same, if not louder. Her beauty seems to keep everything the same, except her hair. Her breath. Her cheeks. Oh god, her cheeks. Appalled at their nude color, the knife jumps down to my thigh. What am I doing to her? (deceit.)
Don't go. Never leave me. Let me live on through you. I understand baby, I understand it all. You need me. You need me to go on. Don't cry, I'll be here forever. For you. Yours. They all want me. They need me to. But I need You. (corrosion.)
...and here I am, living or not. No, no, I am living. I AM. They aren't. They're fucking dead. They have no one. Their lives are MEANINGLESS. Maybe once they mattered. Maybe. But I have her. I have my queen. And she'll never leave. She's under my spell. haha, my spell. I sound like a myth. My tongue slithers down her throat like a snake in the grass. The veins on my hands grow.
Her cold tongue is stationary but mine'll keep moving. My lips can't get enough of her sweet, sweet nectar. She's what propels me; what keeps me going. She keeps me from going insane. And here she is, breathing or not. If anything, her cheeks are some sort of tell of her liveliness. They wouldn't be this pink, otherwise. I hear their barbaric chanting outside. Their plastic ripping against my door. MY wooden door. Fucking imbeciles. I'd open the window for air, but why would I want to share the
Everything gets turned into this. This thing. This taste. The gunmetal sour that slowly turns sweet. The love that dies over a bite and kiss. I still feel her... As I write, I hear the rapping of the animals outside my wooden door, barricaded with more wood and metal on the inside. From the outside, I know I'd look odd. Wood in this metal society. But I'm not the odd one... She lays upstairs, breathing; at least I think she is.
