rage;
the suppressing impediment acting one with the devil.
oh how lovely it would be to not drown in the filthy reveries and love struck ephialtes. surely bathing in the wine coloured waters of lyssa's desires would have never enticed me more.

for the kaleidoscope of collisions had never lunged faster, locked chains in contact with her caramel flesh, pressing the coolness of tomorrow's. it solemnly delved into the deeper constricts of the mind, tarnishing the once pure.

what once could no longer be any more.
and lord could not forgive her no more.