Beautiful. Artistically, almost satanically beautiful, and sexual, and inimitable. The incarnation of imperfect perfection, or is it perfect imperfection? Whichever. It is, and he is.
One does not simply recover from him, like an illness. He is not an illness - he is a disease, a parasite, an infection, nagging constantly at the back of your mind like a second conscience. Once he starts at you, you can never recover. You will never be the same.
This is beauty, and this is pain, and this is him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is, in fact, about a boy. The same boy as as my poem "About a Boy" (DiRana). And bethrox14 knows who it is, but is NEVER GOING TO MENTION HIS NAME, RIGHT?
YOU ARE READING
Any and Every
RandomI originally titled this "Concept of Beast". It was an attempt to defeat writer's block by writing whatever came into my head. Well, I didn't like the title, so I changed it. (I also didn't like the description, so I changed it to this.) This is any...
