#josedio

Hello. Why is it you do not take this blog seriously? Why can you not enter my inbox, leave a decent, respectable ask, and then leave? Do you despise my existence, or just my sanity? Would you deny me my right to offer you the love and gratitude you deserve, my darling? My sweetheart? What is it you desire, if not a decent piece of prose or pipedream poetry to tide your tick-tocking, complex brain over for the few seconds you allow me to hold your attention? I just want to treasure you, and you deserve something nice, don’t you? But it is sabotage you are addicted to. It is the chase of it, the game that we humans make of love. Love, a most serious matter, one that has launched legions, launched battalions, launched poisons in the heart to infect the mind with madness. I just want beautiful things for you, my soft darling, as I know you are suffering, and yet you push me away like this. What has become of us? What has become of what we once had? I once admired everything you were, and yet I was blinded only by what you were not. My sight has returned, beloved, and with it comes a clarity in the heart where once your vapid, bitter poison bled. Come to bed, sweet thing. Worry not for how the space where I sleep next to you will be empty and cold by morning, for you will surely, most clearly have a better life without me. Instead of focusing on my love for you (and indeed, your desire to inflict harm upon me for some reason I cannot fathom), you may flourish into the powerful creature you were always destined to be. - Yours devotedly, Mod Sable.

Fangs bared, sunken deep, Dio exhaled in ecstasy; “truly, Joseph, no one’s blood looks as good on me as yours.”

Ripple infused hermit purple sluggishly slammed into his chest with a dead man walking’s celerity—his neck hurt, and Joseph’s breathing was becoming laboured as the vampire fed without care.