Coagulated lacerations. Soft scabs and clots. The wounds are still tender, but come hither, demimonde, and help to rip them open again. Claw at me. Peck at me. Bite at me. Let the blood pour. Lap it up. Drink it like a fine wine. You enjoy it so. And why not? The taste of my warm blood is a rare delicacy to your frozen
heart. Ah, but it ironically warms
me so to know that I can be of help. Let me diverge you from your
own pain. I'll help you forget about your
pathetic life I will prostitute and vitiate
my compassion to wretched creatures such as
yourself. As I know you've lost your ardent
feelings in the glacial fog you hide
in.
My despondent satire is but charity
to the likes of you. Now smile and have a nice day!