trapped in the field we watched as you flew the boy is sick and dying the meteors rained down you were too fragile falling down the stairs we saw you break we heard the bones shatter with a snap he was gone...

When the eyes fail and the ears go
When the bones hurt and the brain knows

Your own blood was a poison to you
You devoured yourself and we watched

If there was someone behind you
He might have seen your spine crack
He might have seen man become dust

you plaything you were very fun to play with and you were very fun to break and i liked to touch you and feel the moist flesh quiver and give way and i liked to watch you squirm

and cough
and choke

and die

You can hear the voice;
It calls another name.
You can touch the light
And be transformed to flame.

Hollow spheres resonate your frequency
In the corner you sat
Content with your place
Until you saw the door

little rolled-up man
please don't cry
little broken man
please don't die

we all thought you made some very funny jokes and you were a very good jester and i thought it was funny when you wiped blood on the flag and tied it around your penis and when you threw a brick at the old man and when your face broke apart on the pavement into a million white pieces that each reflected the light of the neon sign of the strip club

Your eyes were very pretty

When the mouth rots and the knees snap
When the heart pops and the ribs crack

i giggled when i saw your entrails fall out

Sometimes at night
it feels like a serpent has constricted me
and my dreams become a mirror of my reality
and i touch something cold and smooth
and for a moment my soul freezes
but as long as i have you to stomp on
as long as i can smash your little baby face into a wall
as long as i can press you until your skull cracks
as long as i can slice fetus from ear to ear
i can stay me forever

My burden, my anchor, my cross, my breath.
My deathbed, my whispers, my twitch and my death.
My spinning petals, my summer dew
My cry, my cry, my love for you.

In Vampire: The Masquerade, this is the unique discipline of Clan Assamite -- which, given Webster 1913's definition, is appropriate, since the Assamites are a clan of assasins.

Quietus is a powerful discipline, and most of its uses devoted to making murder easier. The first level, for instance, creates a radius of silence around the user, allowing her to move inaudibly -- and her victim quite unable to call for help. Higher levels allow her to poison blades or inflict damage from a distance after having touched her victim.

Qui*e"tus (?), n. [LL. quietus quit, discharged, L., at rest, quiet, dead. See Quiet, a., and cf. Quit, a.]

Final discharge or acquittance, as from debt or obligation; that which silences claims; (Fig.) rest; death.

When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin. Shak.


© Webster 1913.

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