Saturday, 20 November 2010


FUCKING SUCK IT, SLAVE! he screamed.
The delightfully grotesque spectacle of her vomiting over her Chuck Taylors.
They had been taking turns to rape her for going on four hours now. They had Allen keeping watch at the entrance to the ruins. He didn't question what was happening. It was likely that he didn't fully understand. But he did not question brutality. He understood brutality. He had learned brutality.

Tim was a man rendered so ineffectual he no longer understood the mechanics of pleasure. All he could grasp was his own worthlessness. He felt guilt for wanting, guilt for needing, guilt for existing. The anguish effected by the most mundane decisions embarrassed him.
Feeling his way into something huge and monstrous and
A darkness, stagnant smell, humidity, a warmth in the darkness, a gently roaring echo, a secret summer place. A tender sadness.

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