#1290

Do you know why you succumb always to violence, my love? Why you strike so willingly to draw blood and tears and apologies? Why need cripples you like an addict? You are unsophisticated, darling. You’re vulgar. Crude. Primitive. You are ruled by your baser instincts, your hunger and lust and envy. You take what you want and destroy what you cannot take. No grace in you, no, nor patience or honor. You’re no more than a feral dog biting blindly with foam-flecked fangs. Intimidating? Hardly. You’re pathetic.

I have never raised my hand against you, dear beast. I know where that path leads, and it leads nowhere good for me. I am no match for you in brute strength, but what I lack in muscle I more than surpass in wickedness. My weapons are sharpened words, frozen silences, aching absences. My power lies in merciless truth and cruel deceit, quick cuts and slow bleed outs. I am refined. Elegant. Precise.

I am dangerous.

Tell me, my sweet – do you think the hound can stand against the serpent? Do you think the hound can sever the serpent’s head from its body before poisoned fangs sink into its flesh? Can mere brawn trump agility, blind instinct best cold calculation?

Let us test that theory, beloved. The winter solstice approaches.

 

[ Written while listening to Johnny Cash’s song “God’s Gonna Cut You Down” on repeat because this video is bad ass. ]

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