ur sleeping on the couch

does the devil know he's in hell

trigger warning; graphic violence

i have a longing for cherub boys and seraphic girls, of cotton candy lips and honey drizzled hugs, angel cakes and chocolate bars. of fresh watermelon and pink lemonade in summers-

i also have a longing for the metal feel of the edge of a blade, the hilt of a knife heavy in my hand, of bloodshed where it is deserved and a lifelong sentence of nothing but cruel fire.

i have the need to watch him as his skin curls off in smoky, jagged pieces as flames consumes him, day after day after day. id like to watch his eyes shrivel up and fall to the ground, watch him grasp at himself crying out in pain for what he's done. watch as he splutters out bloody apologies and splinters of broken wood, watch him as his throat collapses in on its self with a crunch. i want to watch as his spine escapes his body one section at a time, i want to hear his shrieks as he drags his fingernail-devoid fingers down the scorching earth. i want him to pray for a death he will never deserve.

-i have a longing for cherry lip balm and the scent of honeysuckle and roses, of lavish skies and-