broken toy, broken toy, broken toy. a clockwork stumbling of words, a STATIC of what this night has unfolded in when he was convinced he would return home with all his limbs his own. the only semblance of control he OWNS, the only thing that will not leave him in this world – no longer RESPONDS when he calls it.
where he imagines a SNARL taking root, a flash of ( demon, demon, demon ) teeth for the manipulator, there is none —- only a possible quirk of lips if his nen hadn’t been SQUANDERED, hadn’t been stolen by the pinprick of a needle’s tooth in his spine. but, even when he can feel his muscles aching, the PAIN they must have felt finally, FINALLY, capturing the last kurta in it’s teeth, curiosity is still a venture to swallow.
❛Is…i-is that what l-lives m-mean to you? They a-are j…just toys…❜ heat FLOODS his being, takes him into FIRE at how much he strains to speak, to UNDERSTAND how murder can taste so good to someone.
how possible it is to love the smell of MONSTER.
even when he begs his body, prays to whoever may be listening that he needs his fingers to STRANGLE, his feet to kick, his tongue to GRAZE wounds into the other but —- no fingers quirk to action.
what a defeat; the last DROP of Kurtan blood && no movement can be found to stop it. ❛What h-happened to…you; what m-made you so-so power-hungry?❜
kaledo-art
romaincrisis
dededos
origamiaround
turnnoffyourmind
kianamaiart
