'so. what reason exactly was there for you bothering me.'
'... its hard to explain.'
'spit it out.'
a room, etched in dark tones, smothered by a dim, somewhat intimate light reflecting off of the simple accents buried into each crack and crevice, a crushing pressure lingering within the air through something as vague as the atmosphere or the piercing gaze of the figure perched across the room. none knew why it chose to nestle itself amongst the shadows, some conspired something hid amongst them that spoke of unfathomable sins none could even dream of, you wouldn't dare to imagine any further. hints of whiskey, smoke and perhaps sorrows remained from beyond the desk ahead, the aura of the man tilted back with his boots promptly on the same place as such clearly important papers was intense yet pleasing to some. the scent clung to you as you left, questioned by those passing by as to the discussions or even secretive matters you could've possibly mustered, though all that really stuck in the fog of your mind would be his contagious sense of humour. thats all many really remembered anyways, this wasn't the type of guy to care for his position and people sure as hell melted into puddles just over that fact, maybe blind admiration was what plagued them.
the apple lodged in its throat bobbing with each sip of the strong drink barely resisting gravity's touch, hardly able to restrain itself through mindless intoxication driving the swipe of its hand, whispers from the glass itself begging for another shot of something worse or equally lethal to the soul. for just a short lived moment, it refused to answer nor make any form of eye contact, only let a sigh of brief and consuming impatience slip from its impure lips, only just getting a glimpse of the sharpened teeth within its mouth through a low growl: it brought sickness to ones stomach in an instant, only allowing you to fidget with your tie or straighten your posture to at least assert something over the dominant form (to no success, to say the least). a tug of the shirt would do the trick.
the heart of an unruly mutt remains encased in this eternal form, only just vieled by a sheath of confidence, edging each step to an abstinence from all form of order, gazing at punishment and spitting hastily in his face without a thought to deter them. nothing thrives in the mind of such a restless spirit, non conformity brings comfort to the non conforming brain, seeking out the subtle pleasures from anguish. despite all of this, i suppose thats just what people adore so greatly, any fueled by this set of ideals prays and groans in worship, many would probably allow themselves to be walked over if it meant pleasing a superior, especially one like this.
one like me.
naturally, how else could i describe myself after all. i, the razor you know of, is simply a fraud and you love that.
i mean i assume so, i can only interpret so much from the foul word of the public eye, washed over with a faint blur that i can hardly distinguish between truth or lie, its impossible, especially if i see it as such.
if i had my way, the world would be manipulated as i pleased, malleable and a vessel of free will instead of the tainted remains provided for me to tend to and caress. what fun is there in carrying on the legacy of those who are far from mortal and whos flame was snuffed out long before my very existence, for they only spoke of cruelty and tarnished my very false title with an asphyxiating black. i was forced upon this position before consciousness and therefore i stay with obvious hesitation and regret, without the light wings of possible optimism to drag me on. why not defy this however, why not stand out amongst the cattle rather than to be taken to the slaughter, i shall be the executioner not the culled. i want more from this investment as do many beneath me.
equally, i despise how those beneath have such intolerable tongues that seemingly have such an impact on me it ruins me, hardly able to force myself onto steady ground and keep my formal structure and instead progressively losing myself to a nonsensical sense of hatred. regardless of the endearment, how many would create an elaborage pathway with their very backs if i mumbled a few words of desperation, and somewhat futile lust of those who gaze upon me, i can only really feel sorry. sorry for the stupidity, sorry for the blind wandering, sorry for their inability to read the truth well. awkwardly, its almost embarrassing to witness their gestures and repetitive quarrels to bring my name back to purity, i can hardly accept it, its only natural for them. even with all of this, i still love them back though. they're still my youth, as confusing as they are, their almost aloof gazes put a weak smile on my face, though im unsure of how. maybe i should owe them at least something and avoid such blatant disrespect temporarily, though they clearly don't seem to protest.
'i've been meaning to ask about our engagments regarding those of the green.'
'go on.'
'perhaps we should... try and cooperate? put our differences aside a little more, i mean from a business standpoint that'd be-'
'no.'
i take back my claims immediately, this is exactly the poor choice of words that brings me only restless nights upon the horizon and has me begging aimlessly to those surrounding me for any form of light and tender reassurance, who could really be the more mindless creature out of us and the masses: such nonsense leaves just another fresh wound upon my already torn flesh that only time has already withered with ease, whether than be metaphorical or inflicted is only left to interpretation of the culprit. equal poisons and distress is far from what i wish to consume once again.
'i suppose i won't be listened to regardless. whatever god wills i'll answer.'
'... excuse me?'
and their god is brought upon them right within the office they chose to enter, with such a lack of any form of decency within any inch of their body, i shall cut and saw away at any aspect that may hold even slight perfection for the rest is infected by falsehoods and a longing for the guillotines sudden and final kiss, wishing to find that gentle part even if it may strip the soul from their very body. such horrific behaviour before my very eyes.
'i stand before you, which other god may you speak of.'
'that is for you to figure out and for me to leave you with, ill attend my work accordingly, it was simply a small request.'
'nono, stay. i have other priorities with such a lamb as yourself.'
'why do you call me a lamb?'
an answer that costs many each remaining element of material upon their wavering idea of self, the threads that keep ones neck intact are soon to be plucked with ease, such is the way of the world we inhabit, such is the way of the child who has yet to pick a toy to play with. i shall find leisure in holding the trophy of your very remains in one steady hand.
'a lamb is a symbol of what? himself and the lost.'
a fine mistake has been made
and i believe i do not need to continue this discussion.
it will be noon when i shall feel satisfaction, ill make a note of when the shades of red etch our monochrome lands temporarily and will soon be admired by the innocent, such an event must be timed well.
bless filth corp.
here we proceed.
