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diazepam.splinder.com/archive/2004-10

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Her father was elegant and hermit.
He perfumed of dust powder because when
he was alone at home,
he used to make up himself and he perfumed
himself and often he shaved his body too.
He weared jewels and knot in fur,
or silk dressing gown,
barefoot was turned.

She was a very beautiful child,
with blond hairs like gold
and great eyes
as the infinite and blue like topazes,
innocents as glass dolls.

She entered home, that afternoon, too much soon,
and he saw her...
There was a moment of embarrassment.
He was angry that she had surprised him
so intimately.
He scream to ring the door-bell, the next time.
She could not understand what
was her father doing nude with those jewels knot to the ankle..
.... then he approached her,
he put down the glass of gin on the pianoforte,
- hello, little baby, I bag your pardon... - he said,
and began to kiss her delicately.
She remained firm.Her cold skin become like china dolls.
He caressed her along the flanks
undressing her flat.
He kissed her eyes and hairs.
He kissed the eyelids sluices.

She died with the locked mouth and the eyes open wide.
She smelt his scent, the dust powder parfume of her mother.
He carefully lay down her on
the fur over the bed and used
her small tender child sex
in her intimate fear,
that small cut defenseless and white.
She shook flat, in order not to die.
Dry tears of fear and shame exited.
He was sweet and delicate,
while he was breathing more and more fast,
while he was cutting and killing for ever her soul.
While he impressed
in her heart a mortal hurt ,
while he designed in her sky eyes
fire lightning bolts of blood
that jumped like rubini of melograno
outside her small mouth of child
while the shout of the thunder muted
every every outcry and every crying

what have done to me, daddy

only the suspire of the wind was over there