[Nouvel] Enfer Noir

I want to pound my burnished oak stake into the gloomy recesses of your soi-disant heart; I want to jar and wiggle this barbed arrow-shaft vigorously in sadistic joy. So cruel — so, so, so cruel. I am sorry, you who are dearest to me above all else. Might you flinch if you could hear the crude collections of endearing nomenclature bastardizing your sweet likeness? Would you weep if you knew how cold, how calculating a monster I both was and continue to be?

I detest underestimating your potential for fury — or, for that matter, comprehension — but my viscera tells me that you would find the snarling rictus of an animal if you only looked long enough.

This violence — this violent flame — is the only gift I can offer you. No altruistic tenderness — not a single sweet nothing to utter in the darkness of coital languor, or exhibitionist onanism — just this utterly conditional enfer noir which is my tainted adoration of all the angels from antiquity that so cleverly perfect their mimicry of the inimitable sphinx with silent demands.

Harried Carrie