when thou readest, see my ink.
when thou readest, see my parchment.
when thou readest, see beneath my scratches.
for my ink is mixed with blood and oil and wine and the unnameable.
for my paper is my very flesh, pulled and shredded and mulched and dried and pressed.
and beneath my scratches are spells glorious, terrible, malevolent.
but for you, my lover (for all readers become my lovers), my spells shall heal and not wound.
if only you have the eyes and fear not.
seest thou?
