Amore; Fimbulvetr

The frenetics of screaming echoed the abyssal of subconscious; screaming of mine. It's existing plane in shards of whites gleaming endlessly like a flash of exhausted death in a mirror-scape. It is to grieve in the flotation, where mourning catches his ears, and the humming of other worldly tones clash to make things horrific to behold. In your capturing of schizophrantic, you remain just there, in just seclusion without a just reasoning. 

I hang there often, with the torn bottoms of feet, that bleed and seep extravagant wounds, in which muscle and tissue are shown in grotesque mutilated shreds. It drips to loathing and self defiling; How I've hung myself here and many times again, I wait for him to near impatiently, though he does not and is never shown. Paralyzed in the harshest sense, foot struck in the dullest; Your mind goes without saying you are your worst enemy. I've longed the saving, but have a damnation of centuries worn upon my shoulders, as they've become drawn out as if extended by forceful tension. I've been punctured, through the empty wounds that tear the feet, and pierced with elongated shards of sharp metal, the forearms that pulsate disturbance.  Glass to hang wretched from the torn of feet's flesh, signaling a tread of light into his direction, yet he does not see just then, for not yet. 

My flesh is nude to ivory, and the chill of coldness keeps its elasticity tightened and constricted. Hair that flows to imaginary winds that breeze me there to levitate. I've screamed again, and his ears sting. He collects himself from his seat of dirt, with cloth to trail in flow of him. The contraption about his back, piercing in multiples on both opposing sides of the spines like fish hooks to capture prey, it holds the spine heavily and weighs with further strips of six lengthy fabrics lined vertically. Above-waist to glare flesh of graciousness and things in beauty further; below-waist consumed in black cloth of superiority. The icon of metal sigil rests in mid-waist positioning like a talisman of Solomon, same to be fish hooked through the waist and then again in the sternum. He is ever Godly, and a merciless fate; though he came at the calling of screams to echo. 

I've slept to crying in his silence, where entities of morbidity dance with torment and taunt before me, as if a lifeless martyr. And in his 
appearance, I'm spared from my self deceit; My loving creature to hear the sirens of desolate screaming, a pitch to tone. The yearning of him to 
the feel of a pleasing nature and appraised. To salvaged hunger fulfilled to his benevolence. 

Life grows where he walks and dwells, and that which is dead near me rises ten fold lively. 
Sound of echoed steps replaces silence and the grim of me can cast the small of facial curvatures in the equivalence of
blood ridden smirking. 

I'm grasped by hands with firmness and removed from the flotation of mystical air. I've exhausted the vocal patterns that return a shriek of desperation, and ever tending so lightly, carried in slowed flow to his seat of dirt. He is vengeful in removing what pierces the feet and forearms; the shards of metal that sting rupturingly. For a device that pierces the wrist in an oddity of build, a circular brace that comes attached to a small, 
straight-lined metal point, he holds the key of removal and releases hastily. 

I spew the blood in vomit at the removal of the feet piercings, and with his mouth he catches the essence of living;
And the weaker I've gone, the more tending he becomes, to drink the spewed and lovingly so. 
I hunch to the exhaustion, slouch further and so more to be caught in an embrace that is warmingly comfort. I cease movement 
and rest with my lips to his own and drift away back to things conscious.

Reviews

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Well that's creepy. In a very good way. Am immediately struck by the intense imagery used and how it creates a very dark atmosphere.
I don't know if you had a deeper meaning/s, but as is the case with most literature, I have found many layers of meaning to the piece. To me, personally, it is a profound piece of writing. Well done.
The only flaw (not the right word) to me is that in its obscurity and abstract nature I cannot tell what the authors intent is. This is only a flaw if you wanted to show your intent, ie had some obvious message you wanted to relay.
Anyway... I'm rambling now. Will definitely be giving your other work a read.
Thanks, Josh.