Cunning is the dirtiest word.

I thought I left you. You were walking and you passed right through me. You didn't shiver, but I was certain you passed me by. I'm still in you though. I thought I left you and I was wrong. I took my life out of me and put in you. But no matter how hard I try, I cannot figure out who is haunting who.

Neveraine, it always rains: Narrative of a life under the ground.

http://www.extremerestraints.com/leather-body-harness-with-cock-ring_2124.html

I sit here in the obscure crevice, of my gloomy apartment, shaking with struggle, as the wolves circle in. All around, all is black, as the industrial coal smoke, smoldering with a tumult of howling hovering above; the black clouds spinning around in circles over the whimpering little glob of goblin. I am the broken chimney sweep. I cackle with cancer: woe (cough), woah (cough). The night is bad, fragrant with clove and Frankenstein's frankincense. Frankly disgusting: me in the mirror obscured by a twisting nether of smoke. A warlock's fantasy? No, the candle's flame is immolation that I've trained so I can superimpose myself into the wax and pretend I am burning. The point of identification is on the razor's edge.

Seething is seeing...

I am sorry underlings. I hate to be lugubrious, but tonight I find only self-hatred. I'm sure many of you were there tonight, at The Sepulchre, gorging yourself on blood-n-vodkas, seizing to the grave and haunting melodies of DJ Mired, and having a phantastic time. And I was too, for a while. Vivian Duskwood III (you may know her, she's heavily into body mods) showed up and she looked negatively possessing in her new boots. She told me they set her back a large sum, particularly large as the store-wisp* wouldn't let her buy the the third boot without buying the 4th. But damn did she have some sort of ghastly gravitational pull as she hobbled around the bar. And I need not say any more of the unspeakable horror, the slivery slight that happened next... It's like the eternal struggle...

On the mountain, no in the mountain. Yes in there I sit. Tonight I have realized, I am the Dagoth Ur. Lovely, lovely lava is my only longing. My head has swollen, is neatly containing, a great deal of dark energy. Mana burns, but pain is pleasure. It's why I get along so well with the lava; what a sensuous creature. It it burning up in me, from the prophecy.

Have you ever heard the sound of rain bouncing off the side of volcano. And the warmest fire burning. That old steel staircase I just shot down from the ceiling with a bolt of lightning. I don't need the stairs anymore, what with my powers. It was beautiful as it was falling from up there near the mouth. Now it's beautiful sinking. It'll start melting soon; the return to magma. Rain rain rain, volcano volcano volcano.

Oh look, one of the giant vampire bats just fell into the lava. Oh what a terrible noise it's making. It's gone now. It's still raining.

There's some sort of armor man stomping around outside! He's almost made it into the entrance hall! I can feel he's come to kill me! Never mind, he didn't even make it past the skeleton guards. It's still raining.