Arcadia

Into dilapidation I've succumbed; with my hand gripped to the collar of his shirt more tightly than the thread of fate.
It's threads I could feel cringe, as if painfully to my strength of hold.
He saw nothing of sorrow in the green glaze of eyes I carry, and questioned intensively what had I drawn his attention for.
He understood naught for what had gone so wrongly.
Silence kept us motionless and contemplation halted with previous decision made swiftly.
Catatonic to the stare of him, for his beauty is miraculous, and I, so undeserving,
carried a sense of longing to cease my disdain of emptiness, where I fell backward into thought of her and why
I was prepared to declare my autopsy before him.

She came to me in dreams, hauntings, as I've suffered long hardships of paralysis a few nights before.
I lack the naming to entitle her, just as they all come nameless in the beginning, only to settle with my conscious
like a grief-struck befriending, in the refusal to leave, the denial to believe they are without human essence.

To live in the abyss I've created for them.

I felt her walk a barren house, with walls of white and floors un-modeled in their entirety;
Decay did not seem to sleep here, as assumed.
Furniture lacked subsistence, and shadows insinuated to play most hideously.
Various of them, to chuckle maniacally.
She captured me with her sweetened scent, like an enlightened trail of mist to catch my sensory glands.
I felt her presence, but unable to trace her appearance.
She lurked near by, though to where, I followed tensely;
The back to tighten and the heart to mourn the mind's curiosity.

Sweetened mist to grow hastily into blackened
disease that brought suffocation and struggle.
I graze the corner with my shoulder incidentally, and in the quickened appearance of her, find myself
gripped at the throat without her touch following;
As if caught in entanglement, desperately to gasp, weepingly to whimper.

The shoulder-length of blackened hair, a porcelain blanc face that
carried the concept of Pestilence; Her stench of despairing horrors laid prepared for me.
So young her features, like that of a child with a malevolent intent, born of enmity.
She aged rapidly and there before me stood the entity of shattered flesh.

To scream, I could not and to escape, was unbearable.
For to sleep, I lacked awareness of, and concluded an effort to escape her through another realm of dream.
To cover the face, I opened eyes to a bathroom stall, for which it laid empty, with a smell of must
and silence to torment; She had gone.
Locked behind the stall door, I pulled my hands worringly from my face and listened to
the drips of sound began, more loudly in each falling. I look about and to my feet, to see blood trail from
the stall aside. It bleeds wretchedly, and its flow had not stopped.
In the shortness of time, I stood knee deep to the clots of things deceased; mush of veins that spewed from a small
floor line drain it came from to come afloat.

I gripped a vein from the sea of filth and decay, to feel it still carried pulse.
I bent toward the flooding, closely to view my reflection and saw nothingness.
For thinned, blanc small hands reached gracefully out of the flood, and in acceptance, allowed her to pull me under.
I struggled not at all as I gasped in its fluids.

I woke to bloodlust.

I looked at him; the beautiful man that was of a husband, my insignificance for which I am unworthy
to be of him. The darkness of his eyes glared discontent at my catatonia, for
he knew nothing of what awaited him; The void expression he consisted of, where in my sorrow, and with the grip of his collar,
I turn the forearm to his perceptional direction, and lift the blade to slice vigorously.
Wounds to blood filled gouges, he turned in shock to leave me bleed;

To die of inanity, I was shaken awake by the gorgeous entity that was of my husband, for I woke
safely in his arms, ever so lovingly, for he spoke with all things gentle to smooth my frantics.
And with the softness of his lips pressed to my forehead, I grow uncomfortable to the feel of wetness beneath me,
where I come to realization, we lay in blood covered sheets, the deadly of him and I, for I had not dreamed my death,
but as he died with me in mutually inflicted suicide, our heaven was kept in the warmth of our bed, to lie forever more in the embrace
of his eternity.