aus-der-traum:

Isn’t it peculiar in which circumstances deranged obsessions long incubated come to light and although dormant for many years they suddenly take hold of you with overpowering force? A small body lies in my arms, a good soldier, and I cradle the man who would be considered a boy in any other time and he too is holding on to his broken form as blood and life run out of him, unstoppable, and what good would it do to stop it – he has no eyes to see, no legs to walk, his hands are twisted claws but he still has a tongue and he can whimper and cry for his mother like a little boy. I stroke his hair and kiss his cheeks and overcome by an inexplicable urge I drop my spit on his open lips and he licks it and swallows it like wine or maybe mother’s milk.

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