crypticism-is-my-passion

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

I feel like winter on the inside. Cold and empty. Barren, fearful, silent, waiting.

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

Sweet little gasps

Crimson blood dripping down claws

Throats gripped like bibles.

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

Sweet, tender necks, twisted from natural poses, resplendent ballerinas with graceful, twitching limbs.

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

A shallow dug grave

An unmarked, iron headstone

The soil stirs again.

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

Six little bone breaks

Bone peaking out of soft flesh

Seven little screams.

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

Your hand wrapped around a pearl, my hands falling to break yours on the concrete steps. Your blood dripping down past my fingers, white slivers splintered into my palms.

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

Choke. Choke. Choke on all that you've done, did, and will do.

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

The melting myrmidons.

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

A blade, wielded with the precision of a conductor's baton. An ensemble of blood and screams. Warmongering melodies and cacophonic dirges.

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

If we went marching into the woods, do you really think you'd crawl back out?

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

Words mean nothing if not spit out from clenched teeth and burning tongues.

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

Blood drips slower than you'd think.

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

The synthwave will be merciless and indiscriminate.

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

The glare from the window will only burn while the blinds are open.

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

Orange is not a color.

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

Dust isn't as pretty as glitter, but it is biodegradable.

[crypticism-is-my-passion]

The yellow frog does not perceive you. How unfortunate.