The Pendulum Ends

My mangling of words begins again, I chain up syllables and thrash them with punctuation, the pendulum sways. Twisting them into emotion, stitching them together to offer to you, the pendulum swings. Severed letters pile on the bloody floor, keeping only the oozing essence of the body I lay them, quivering, on the page, the pendulum slows. They beg you to read them (save them) but they can expect a lifetime of torture until I lay with my dark mistress in my earthly bed. The pendulum ends. (Revision of Untitled 93862)