Emile

My guitar won’t leave me alone…it craves my touch. She calls to me in the night with her soft petulant moans, incessant and maddening. She wants to possess me, to control me…maybe even destroy me. Time is on her side as she faces the eventuality with a smugness that sickens yet somehow elates me.

My guitar cries softy in my hands and the cries quickly turn to screams of passion. Those cries tou ... read more