The man in the wax, day three

I’ve been here before, I see what’s ahead for him, his bone, muscle sinew, his viscera, skin. I’ve witnessed him recoil from his senses, subdue his passion with not so much grace. Occluded in the shadow of his expression, I stole his perfection from him, in little pieces, with my pitiless ineptitude and maybe a piece of malice. I buried the future away; by degrees. I cheated him and nature too, I made impotence my legacy. In my time breaking butterflies, I never needed a wheel, I need one now, if I am to turn around.

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~ by deadspidereye on July 5, 2015.

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