The Villiany of Heroes
I am in the shadow of a great villian. A monster would be too simple a name, for nothing is so in this world of ours. No monsters, no saints, no holy, no blaspheme. Heroes and villians breathe here. I am neither, and claim to neither. I only want to be forgotten. I only want to fade. I have no desire to live. I am the post orgasm deppression of an adulterer.
Yet, I see that villian toppling down, down, into a rabbit hole dug by deafining silence. A villian, and hero, exist only in the jeers, cheers and twinkling eyes of the many, and they no longer look. Not a peep. Not a peek. The villian of a thousand nightmares washes down the spout. I can't let heroes be proud, so I must strike at them. Not their flesh, or riches, but just the senstive ungaurded saint spots. They will feel the pinch and penetration and surely, ill fall and perish by boredom, too.
Yet, I see that villian toppling down, down, into a rabbit hole dug by deafining silence. A villian, and hero, exist only in the jeers, cheers and twinkling eyes of the many, and they no longer look. Not a peep. Not a peek. The villian of a thousand nightmares washes down the spout. I can't let heroes be proud, so I must strike at them. Not their flesh, or riches, but just the senstive ungaurded saint spots. They will feel the pinch and penetration and surely, ill fall and perish by boredom, too.