She smiles at me with those evil eyes. Black specks of unfeeling. I am wholly prisoner to her world. She laughs and I cringe. She wants and I scream with an infant's terror.

    Do not struggle, do not twist.

She holds my sex tighter in her fist. Now is not the time to panic.     

Enjoy the pain. Make it hurt more. Increase the pain until it is a bright blazing sun with the power to wreak blinding fury and render vast consuming sound waves of cacophany.

She lets go, and turns to them, distant from my infinite periphery, and infinitely closer than my own breath.

    She. Her. Hisssssssss. Them.

The waters surround me, and it is only then that I am aware of my escape into deepest currents of oceanic refuge. The darkness is absolute. I am a singularity, existing as only a pulse. The waves surround and caress me, sensing my pulse they harmonize in mine. Liquid bliss; an extraction from the single perfect lotus flower that lives in Mind. It cannot be taken, it cannot by given. It suffuses my pulse with the raw ether of perpetual memory, perfect in hind and future sight.

My pulse becomes the Pulse as all becomes forever, encapsulated in an instant.

Slice:tear - Shatter:fear

    Why didn't I hear the laughter in that pulse?

Caustic reunion is brought to bear upon my perfect little world. They oppose my unified peace with the rage of their hive-mind. I can hear the hunger mingled in with laughter that has never known humor. It is a hunger that has known eternity but has never know satisfaction. It desires to know light in the way that a black hole wants to know light.

    There is no escape.

I taste the acid of their sex. My senses are seized by their will. Their fingers/claws/arms rip through the doors of my perception and navigate the rivers of my soul. My every being is theirs. It begins.



It is born of fear and so horribly worse than any sensory pain could ever be.


Narcissistic pleasure born of only the purest selfishness. It is an orgy of violent lust and cold rage completely disjointed from all biologies. Eons brush past my eyelashes.

    Is this real? Is this really happening?

How strange that I can feel.

    They are gone.

The silhouettes of their cold passion adorn my mind. I am a stain on the fabric of time. I retreat into myself once again. My tears keep my laughter company. Each is savage and desparate in its own attempt to exist. I do not think I would exist without both.

Father time rises up, with his inexorable daughter, fade. The last tear slides down over my smile before the sweet and absolute mercy of midnight overcomes awareness.