Isn’t it cruel? How my miracle, is having you hang on a hook that is not separate from my body. Your eyes play Judas. Your darkest fears have already been sold to my mind. Look, look carefully. I’m looking at you, but my steps are wrong, walking backward, with every particle of magic, your body craves for. Your destruction is my saving grace. Wasn’t it inevitable? Love, you teased the goddess of destruction, built a castle of despair with her, not knowing she’s capable of feeling at home in ruins.