fucking execution style

You have accepted my bayonet. I sent its edge bounding through the continued, abundant venetian blinds.. It cut calmly. Worn crepe, interruption and anarchy. The bending abjure, the blue held breath. The celestial body, discharging over still water. You culled the bolo from the bed, a barrage filled your ears. A blot of claret, boastful.

A dimming of ants cascaded to annihilate my best cashmere dress. Every belief accused, diving and bawling, the cutlass gashed through the blast. You slammed the gate. It’s not angst that battens you. Aphids clumped from my beat up hair. My air feathered with ashes, Skin unanimated, oxidized, lips cleaved, releasing the letter tucked under my tongue. A missing end to the alphabet; clawed to bits and cauterized upon the fire. Your constancy is my only agony.

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