Not For Pussies.
My scribe is down now. (That’s how I like her, on her knees.) Physically unable to find the energy to mentally explore. Her mind still seething, she hates herself for letting me hijack her once again. Like she has a choice. I tell her no doubt she has done something to deserve it. I will make her write for me one letter at a time if I have to. Just because she’s exhausted doesn’t mean I am.
Torture is all relative, really.
An immortal doesn’t feel such a thing unless he chooses to, although, perhaps, there are instances where others can inflict it on you, (see my book, meet Aela,) immortality is a complex structure with endless loopholes, variations, complications, fabrications, dissertations, elaborations, prestidigitations, scrupular manipulations, flexible truths, discordant accords, complex hatreds, fallible gods, (not me), religious values, (again, not me), political implications, (you wish), I imagine this sentence is going on rather long for you, (poor young thing), I certainly hope not since you have definitely, inadvertently, without intention or purpose, avoiding all attempts to evade such a thing, which anyone in their right mind would have done long ago, abandon ship I implore you, run while you can for I have an utter disdain for the ‘rules’ of grammar, as well as my own private agreement with commas wherein I am free to abuse them and they are free to hate me for it, a nice compromise- spot the lies- I am known to be flexible, however, there’s no getting away from the fact that you have carelessly, foolishly, rampantly, stumbled into Another one of my famous, I won’t say legendary, but likely others would: I might modestly claim notorious, but truthfully they are a peccadillo of mine which it pleases me to submit you to, since once you have engaged you will still want an ending that might make sense of this nonsense, in which sentiment I could support you if I was not utterly indifferent to you and what you think; (time for a semi colon, I think,) (and an &, since they’re sexy,) that is my nature, and at the moment I see no hope of it changing, it’s for you to leave now if I am boring you, leave with the assurance that you will not be missed, and that you will never know {random insert with pretty brackets} what might possibly have made sense of this mad ramble, adieu chér ami, adieu, dormez vous, allons nous les autres, let us proceed in English since I am taxing her resources- who cares, one might ask, if one cared but something like that is difficult to determine and know that this bit in italics was added strictly for the Obsessed who like to find things the way they left them and won’t, alas, already by making her type non-stop with weak hands, it’s nothing, she insists, since she will type what she wants one finger at a time if she has to, though I say soon the pace will kill her, you can’t know that she has been typing constantly without a break since this is how one constructs a Pandoric sentence, there is web and, wait, pause, slight break time- (scribal weakness, curse it), as well as time for other random bullshit such as this adorable attempt to capture a greater audience by using the following words: porn star, sex (find it in my book, sort of) large breasts pole dancer government lust politician average human (no doubt the space will annoy you, feel free to leave your comments) (I, scorn, proper, punctuation, because I can), greed sports football awards - italics again, Satan loves the obsessed, yes, here you are, lick my hand, just for a second, you know you want to, lovely breathtaking blood hideous addictive fight lose die win ugly, starve, wait, they really do, look around you at the real world, I am here for you, money, power, God, violence, violence, death, how you do love it, hit me again, I like it, must not miss the good ones, child, mine, yours, money, power, money, I will kill you if I can find you, wait, I mean I will reward you, I am the devil, this is my sentence, see how I easily I jump to something joyful, look outside, trees, redpolls, sunset, clouds you can ride, they will take you away somewhere, and that is where you find the end of this sentence. By my grace.
Consider this a masterpiece of Memento Mori.
“Atoms to Atoms” by Eyes On The Shore