Reginald burns in the furnace of her heart.
The ship keeps rocking back and forth, swaying. I’m your captain and there’s puke in my beard. Do you recognize me, Clara? Jizzing in your blood and bone. Impregnating you with blacklight.
I don’t like you!
Your words shake the monster within, like glass being ground into the palm of my foot. I am still woozy and in my weakness it finds opportunity. Blades spire out my fingertips and malice bubbles in my heart. My tongue swirls around viralization.
Welcome to the Twilight saga. I’m sharpening my teeth. It is my dessstiny, revealed by the surrounding televisions: A black hole sent to suck your reflection out, planting it in a middle aged woman in texas.