dancing after death

now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat

it's a bearable bruise on your conscious

He almost flinches when she tells him he doesn’t deserve it. If he didn’t, why does it keep happening? But he doesn’t know how to argue the point with her, so he lets it fall just as swift as her hand from his shoulder. She doesn’t underestimate him, but she’s asking him to hurt her again, and he doesn’t know if he wants to — if he can. He wants to wallow, to sink in his sorrows and let it consume him until there’s nothing left. But he doesn’t know where to start.

Instead his eyes shudder slightly as she mentions she’s not just ‘people’ to him. How he had cared once, cared deep enough to crawl to her blighted and confused, to let her help him ruin a reputation he had kept for so many years with the flame of Korofi. It’s that sudden realization that has him conceding a step, teeth gritting slightly against her words. “I don’t deserve it, you don’t want to see me hurting, you have chosen to accept that I’m no saint?” He repeats, gruffly, steel eyes scanning over her again.

“And yet you helped me ruin the reputation I had with her when we were blighted. Happily. Did I deserve it then? What makes this time different?” He asks, quietly, honestly.

but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?

i am the way and the life in the best looking truth