(no subject)

[teetheyes]

Don’t listen… I remember. I’m an ugly place.

Between 1920 to 1990 I left a trail of bodies starting with Venice. In 1986 I filled five graves with five boys; Jonathan Howard Thayer was 17, Reed A. Casey Jr. was 15, Gabriel Ashe was 15, I forget the rest. I killed a man at Carnivale 1920, then I killed her, then Constantine killed me. I let Constantine live. I fell in love with The War. I killed two boys in Birmingham, Alabama, that’s when I learned shibari. It was 1990. I bled Davy in the bathtub into Amarillo’s drains while drinking dry wine. I joined the Nazi Party in 1934 and became a member of the SS. I gave 452909756 an injection of petrol to the heart. Gabriel Ashe survived. I met him again in 1997 and put him to sleep. I had HIV for months and Still. Kept. Fucking. A truck took Jacob’s head while I polished him off in his father’s 1964 Mustang. That wasn’t my fault. I met John in 1973, I didn’t kill him because of Charles. He could kill me. That bullet Matthew took was meant for me.

I could say more… I need to throw up.

I cry in my sleep.

Comments

[venomouselle.livejournal.com]

S'okay. I forgive you. I don't mind not being able to fuck you. I like the thought sometimes. I think it's cuz I know that you're a cute old man wrapped up in a whole lot of shit in a pretty new package.

Death is never pretty. And we all gotta end sometime. I'd think you were a sick fuck if I didn't know that somewhere you feel sorry.

[bitingnightmare.livejournal.com]

That's an interesting way of putting it. Thanks.