Elegance in blood
What do people see when they close their eyes? In the dark place of your mind, what comes forward in the dark of blindness? What do you daydream about when the day slows down and you have a moment to slip away? Behind my eyelids I see razorblades and impossibly sharp, tiny knives; I see bodiless hands cutting patterns into my skin, slow and torturous. I see a thousand shades of red, blood on the white of my skin, wounds down to the bone, skin splitting like a zipper beneath a scalpel blade. A mouth runs along the incisions, bottom lip turning sanguine as it traces the skin and puckers to kiss where it has drawn blood so sweetly. Lips, breasts, eyes tearing mine apart, blood in place of sweat in the most intense sex of my life.
I want it to hurt so much I can't breathe, I want to know what it is like to be dismantled, skin in ribbons. I want the exquisite joy of being drawn to climax with pain.