“The Soulless shall Love Again” written by Daton L. Fluker Dedicated to the lovely @ToriLamour

Posted: February 28, 2014 in Camalot Dimension 360, Finished Cries
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

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Dedicated to the lovely Tori Lamour

Tori Lamour Twitter
http://twitter.com/ToriLamour

Home Page
http://www.torilamour.com

The Soulless shall Love Again
Written by Daton L. Fluker

Daton’s Twitter
http://twitter.com/datonflukers

I know it’s real, serious, and that you are extremly beautiful, darker than anything I’ve ever seen.
What do we say to beautiful when the night says that your majesty is dark, lustful, even got damn nasty?
They are tedious. Yes, they are serious. That’s why she looks at you the way she does.
Monsters call us.
My dear, I am not an evil person. Those names you called me hurt. I’m a horror novelist, not an evil worshiper.
But you believe that we are the soulless.
Oh, the things I’d do to her in the dark. I’ve seen her in the light. She’s more than welcome to the pleasure she anticipates.
When angels go to bed she forgets us when we close our forever eyes.
Nightmare women abstract kindness into our affliction. When rain comes, a shadow of hatred puddles over our sweet Earth.
Every minute it changes, breaks, lumps, and bleeds in cracks.
What am I?
I gave you my heart love, not thy tongue. I speak through my flesh. I write through thy bone, not thy fingers.
What am I?
When the sun rises. We dream under Mother Nature’s tall vegetation. She tells us to follow the brightest star. Follow the North Star.
Thy should understand thy wrath of their actions. I speak faithfully. Didn’t my tongue get cut out?
You asked, “why do I write dark words?”
Beautiful women fancy sexual positions with my tongue. I’m a sinner. I’m cursed to be a muse. I am darkness, and I am light.
You are told to see her like this because you worship her that way. You gave her your soul.
Does she hear our sniffles? Tears roll down their tearducts.
We are not afraid to speak our hearts. That’s what makes us human.
If we can’t speak then we sleep in our own hell.
My razor heart stuns with warts. Sequels made with dreams never won parts.
No blood is on my tongue; for the night is unsaid, and we conceive thy soulless love.

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Comments
  1. Brett Rossi says:

    Do you care if I tweet this?

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