• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 08

The Heir

Orlando came, then hardly went time spent upon a velvet chair where one might feel quite queer, my dear. A sylph, a glide, an angled face a blushing courtier’s disgrace. Then from the court a banishment. Came in as him and out she went.
I do not know what Siegfried said, his orange marmaladed head stuffed full of God and thoughts of Nietzsche, his mistress kept upon a leash. A taxidermic marbled glare at specimens unaware that it was time for tea.
Which leads to me. Sweet inevitability. Successor of the twisted line my peccadilloes wrapped up in twine and waiting to gestate. The past is present tense no less and destiny a sweet caress for princes wrapped in mink.
A portrait now will have to wait, a livery my dreadful fate but not today I plead.
Today I’m naked on the floor a dancer who is yet to draw a drop of timid blood.
Let me simply hypnotise, drown you in my jaded eyes and wrap you up in silk. I’ll tease you with eternity, a Will you cannot ever please, and when we both are almost filled, our aching tongues are lapping still, I’ll disappear once more.
Into tomorrow’s half open door.