Crucifixion
A woman, nailed to a lacquered black cross, blood pouring slowly from her wounds and puddling on the floor. Her back arched up as much as she can afford, the strain only increasing as she pulls on the thick spikes that hold her in place. Her face wet with tears - her body jerking with silent sobbing as she tries to adjust to the sensation of pains that course through her. She is in agony.
It is night, the weather cool, a start contrast to the warmth that pulses under her skin. The crack of thunder is followed quickly by lightening, illuminating her straining form. She cries out as rain begins to pour, washing away the puddles that she has worked so hard to create.
A man, sits watching this quietly, his fingers stroking along the grip of a sledge hammer.
Fascinating. Catholics everywhere are worried for me.
[…] The subjects are vast. Indeed, my love of Mexican food was a lengthy post, fueled, no doubt, by a trip to the taco stand gods at Ricos. That lighthearted entry is seated closely next to posts about bloodlust, Catholicism and N. It is rather odd how the mind works, and just how much depth one person can have. […]
Sadistic Excess » Blog Archive » Two years. said this on June 11th, 2006 at 1:56 am