(no subject)
title: bright burn cadence
prompt: 19
summary: The candle on the table is hot hot. Bright burn cadence. If he touched his finger to the flame, would he melt?
The candle on the table is hot hot. Bright burn cadence. If he touched his finger to the flame, would he melt? Would his blood boil? Could he step outside and melt the snow?
If the outside is cold and the candle is hot, where does that leave him? Gasping grey gracious space. Spacious, spacious. The room is too big, the candle too small.
In the cold of winter where do the butterflies go? No sirocco, no sirocco, siroc oh oh. He found one, under the sheets and duvets and comforters of snow. Poor little thing. Lucky he got there when he did, oh poor little butterfly, she's so lucky.
Her wings were like special beautiful stain glass windows. The kind his mother had in her quarters. And how blasphemous. House of Black, House of Black, houseofblack, houseofblasphemous, house of blast, blast, blast, blasphemous. Blast, blast, blast me off of the tapestry you cold hearted bitch.
But the butterfly is black in the middle, how funny. So he chops of the wings and puts her by the candle. He watches, watches, wings, wings, wondrous watching. She will get up one day and leave him. So he ties her down and watches some more.
When Moony finds him in the morning, naked and watching and wanting and waning, he does nothing but blow out the candle.
prompt: 19
summary: The candle on the table is hot hot. Bright burn cadence. If he touched his finger to the flame, would he melt?
The candle on the table is hot hot. Bright burn cadence. If he touched his finger to the flame, would he melt? Would his blood boil? Could he step outside and melt the snow?
If the outside is cold and the candle is hot, where does that leave him? Gasping grey gracious space. Spacious, spacious. The room is too big, the candle too small.
In the cold of winter where do the butterflies go? No sirocco, no sirocco, siroc oh oh. He found one, under the sheets and duvets and comforters of snow. Poor little thing. Lucky he got there when he did, oh poor little butterfly, she's so lucky.
Her wings were like special beautiful stain glass windows. The kind his mother had in her quarters. And how blasphemous. House of Black, House of Black, houseofblack, houseofblasphemous, house of blast, blast, blast, blasphemous. Blast, blast, blast me off of the tapestry you cold hearted bitch.
But the butterfly is black in the middle, how funny. So he chops of the wings and puts her by the candle. He watches, watches, wings, wings, wondrous watching. She will get up one day and leave him. So he ties her down and watches some more.
When Moony finds him in the morning, naked and watching and wanting and waning, he does nothing but blow out the candle.