almost pretty.

xxi. tinker tailor soldier bye

do you think you love me? do you think you'll ever win? we've been on these teacups for far too many years; spinning and shrieking and not once did i look you in the eye. boy, you might be a soldier, you might have had your fist around this throat, but can you step into the pen of the wolf? do you trust your flesh within her maw?

you needn't step foot in hell to be corrupted; look at my eyes. look at my skirt. you are already halfway there, my alastair. listen to those bells, they're ringing so far away, and the sound carries between all the spires of the city, all the copper turned to teal! the little peaks toll the words of your book of lies, and every one of those lies first spilled from my lips. i wear benefit rose stain, you know.

all you've ever wanted was to lick this mania, roll your tongue up over my cheek, pinch my eyelashes in your gums and dissolve me. honeyed angel, i'll sear your throat. i am a devil, i am a dolly, i am the jutting carbon of every stone that ever slashed your soles.

i want to laugh and promise you that i'd sell you my soul if only i had one to give!

see me now when that cannon fires, see me when they mail your wife. see me from that flag-draped box, and see me on the throne. see those thorns in my golden hair (it costs so much to bleach) and see my bloodied slip. see the monster from under your bed slink his form around my hips.