Lifeless,

              Blood,

Swirled,

       Into a pool of dread.

 Step by step, with great diligence, he approached the body, wiping the blood off its face. With conscientious care, seizing a piece of brain matter off the floor, he scrutinized and examined it with mere delectation. Euphoric pleasure in the form of twists, the gelatin-like textured substance rolled on his fingers.

Tasteful.

  Heaven and glorious idealistic dreams roused within the incessant shackles of his mind. Starry lights, vivid and candid, flowing in perpetual motion towards a desolate chimera. 

Laying beside the body, admiring the unimaginable chaotic, crimson beauty of a spectacle, he thought, “How can one not admire such an exquisite view and rather, bash away horrified with disgust?”. Appreciating, admiring the hauntingly beautiful spectacle, the piece, the trophy this artist had forged with pernicious hands and marveled eyes.  

      The cerise paint, glimmering and displaying its silent and callicious elegance at the tip of his fingers. 

“Mesmerizing.”

Beside a lifeless body he  was. 

Wistful,

       Reflective in nature. 

Within this creature, elation overflowed rhythmically; ecstatic waves of turmoil and euphoric degradation overshadowed a consciousness devoid of reason and integrity.

   “Would it matter?”

            “Will it matter?”

                   “Does it matter?”

Perhaps, he thought, it is a matter of time. 

So he said, 

  “It is time that sinful and dull light of yours saunter this world once more,  corrupting existence's daunting ordeal of truth.”