#scorchcore

          ❛  i  don’t  care  if  you  think  i’m  ready  or  not  .  i’m  going  ,  gen         the  darkling  himself  asked  me  to  accompany  him  out  of  os  alta  .  i  can’t  just  refuse  .  ❜

THE   STONE   FRUIT ,      split   down   the   middle   of   its   cyanide   core   with   surgical   trimness .         it   strikes   the   concrete   diametrically ,      an   end   rolling   once   so   that   it   lay   flat   against   its   neonate   face ,      already   sallow      &      tenuous   with   foetal   malady   ravening   it   from   outside   the   womb      &      its   red   skin   untempered   by   the   incision   as   if   an   unbidden   display   of   preciseness   when   no   bluntness   dragged   its   flesh   atop   the   lesion .         exhibits   of   prowess   could   almost   resemble   an   idiom   between   them ,      as   satiny   as   a   serpent’s   charade   slipping   through   the   grasp   of   fingers   —      a   manner   of   jest ,      challenge   or   IGNOMINY     &     difficult   to   tell   which   is   it   before   a   tightlipped   grin   specs   the   corners   of   his   mouth .         (   there’s   more   blithe   in   the   way   that   the   light   reflects   off   his   eyes,      effete      &      bereft   in   moments   migrating   )     ——     ——     -               ❝            it   was   too   ripe .            ❞