Whimper

Time is a factor she said. You can never go wrong if you have daggers for nails on the tips of your unforgiving fingers. Then as the skin, red cross-hatching.. were pictures of another day.. or night, for both are crimson. A whimper in the darkness is a lot like love.

If it gasps my name, into the void you will fall. Words are fragile, hang off them at great cost. Then again, words are seldom soft and warm like your skin. If it were at all possible to drink your skin may it possibly be a blanket to my heart..? Hidden away, protected.. yet slowly suffocating.

Restraints are put into place around the kittens neck. It is no b***h, but it does not matter. Like any being it must comply. Pain, suffering and the binding ring will achieve the goal. Then join the masses of dogs and when you're torn limb from limb in the bloody haze, contemplate all which you have failed. A disembodied cats-foot is not good luck.

There's that whimper again, only slightly louder and begging for it to end. It is a lot like love; an idea.
I do not believe in it. Respect the idea she said. You can never go wrong if you have ethics at the tips of your vigilant fingers. Pictures of a cell. Dark confines. Inescapable. Unbearably freezing. Its captive's soul scraped with a blunt blade unmercifully.

Ah~.. there it is again.. pleasure stricken.. no.. in pain?.. either way, I tell you what;.. I am becoming accustomed to that whimper...