Word a second: minute of confusion

There is
a special sort of horror
in wondering how
you got where you are
and wondering as well
how you will get out of it,
especially when
you cannot see,
and all you can smell
is blood,
and all you can hear
are screams.
It is a delight
he loves to inflict.
It is a kiss
he loves to give.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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