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Breaking Up is Hard To Do

Oh Nosferatu, you know nothing has changed since the last time your fingers twined up my spine filling those fangs with effulgent fluid. You know you still get an A+ in my book for wanting me to be your deadly bride, but I just can’t bring myself to put down this life. Chainsaws and all I love you baby, evil begets evil and we belong together. It’s just that tiny detail, sunlight, lover. I need to put my legs in beams of vitamin D and I want my victims to see me and know that bad things still happen in the day time. When I’m running after my sprinters with a hulking blade, I want the glint to blind them as they fall across an inconvenient stone. Look up! Yes I’m here to kill you, no you cannot beg for mercy, yes you can ask forgiveness, but I doubt anyone is listening. My sweet darkling disaster, you are such a mess these days. Pacing halls with candles lit, looming in your own shadow for young maidens. They’re too willing these days, eh? Blood tastes flavorless when they want it. I know, I’ve lost my hard on to the suicidal ones as well. Your need for destruction is unappealing audience, I thought you should know. Dear one, it’s not your fault. You used to be master of the underworld, but then they created me. I’m much more scary. Pulling out fingernails and collecting sex organs in formaldehyde jars. They love your deep torment, you are a product of a curse, beautiful and languid in moonlight. I’m a psycho fiend with no sense of mortality or end. I want this mania, and there’s nothing to stop me. Dismemberment, incisions, disemboweling, stitches, these are a few of my favorite things. So I hate to break it to you, baby, but you’re just not scary enough for me anymore. The others have started to talk, losing your edge they say, I can’t be a part of that. I must maintain, for the benefit of both of us. Who will keep them on their toes, if we both fall into cliché? No doubt, my sweet, there was a moment you had it all and we were only students of your demented art. Incidentally, I have to say good bye. I have a present for your pale lips, for your limp ribs, I’ll stake your heart, so they don’t have to. At least it was done with love, and I said I wasn’t merciful, I guess you’ve got me going soft handsome.

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About deadendemily

Emily lives in Austin, TX. She has a minor in chaos and a major in spray paint. She likes Vincent Price and ABBA. She enjoys being covered in fake blood and writing horror stories. Most of the time she just hopes that her cat is not plotting to murder her, her cat being a minion of Satan and all. They would never suspect the cat.

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