Originally Posted by JackSpade

Spinning in a dizzying haze of mortification, the sun sets. Dante spelled his name out [consider changing to 'out his name'] in exhaled smoke. The twilight shone through the letters into the effects of the X he was tripping off of. Jesters stood surronding ['surrounding'] him with five knives and a shotgun. He stared down the barrel twisting with it's [its ... no contraction. it's = it is] inner cavities. A spark hit a bullet and it traveled spinning slowly through the barrel. It launched out of the barrel and Dante watched amazed as the heat from the bullet slowly ate through his t-shirt cloth and then through his flesh, leaving a gaping hole, still burning, in his stomach. The Jesters smiled a yellow grin and picked Dante up and laid him down on a motel bed. The blood still smelled fresh from the unwilling deflowering of a 9 year old girl, days past. They twirled his hair in their knives and then put a knife slowly in each and every single finger and toe, nailing him to the bed. A torn and bloody figure came from across the room. An angel badly beaten, bleeding from several head wounds, its wings ripped out. The angel placed a hand above Dante's face, blood running down the forearm, palm, then the fingers, to drip onto his lips. A sacrifice, the angel mouthed painfully. Lips shown ['sewn'?] shut, ripped open to mutter two single words. A Jester came up behind the Angel and slit the angel's [at first it was capitalized, now it isn't?] throat, a deep gutteral ['guttural'] sound of choking on blood and the blood mixing with stomach acid as the angel tried to vomit from the pain.

A hand ran up the lining of Dante's crotch. He looked down and a 9 year old with lacerations on every inch of her body, [i'd take out this comma] pulled out his member [and then drop one in here] and took it into her mouth. He put his head back in extasy ['ecstasy'], but the fantasy was lived to ['too'] early, teeth bit down and the member was dismembered [the member was dismembered? lol, consider using a different word here. i know what you mean, but it still sounds awkward]. He looked at the girl, wide eyed in pain and saw her open her mouth, smiling and watching the blood dribble through her teeth. Then she spit out his dismembered member onto the floor, a splatter like eggs hitting a hot pan. She fell back into the shadows and knight came.

Angry and absorbed with self-pity the knight unsheathed the sword of retaliation. Viewed with such horror and tramatic [should be 'traumatic'] stress disorder [traumatic stress disorder, eh? do you mean post-traumatic stress disorder? probably not, since he is currently stressed rather than post-stressed. so basically, while clever, you're inventing a term here -- i'd consider using something else.], he smirked, teeth that ran into sharp peaks like ice sickles [i guess you're trying to be clever with this one too? fine, whatever -- these purposeful typos, in my opinion, don't work]. A painful line was traced from the [consider changing to 'his' ... at the moment it is slightly unclear who you are referring to until later in the sentence] neck to the pelvic bone as the sword parted the sea of Dante's flesh. The Knight's body was molded with blackened burnt armor, a fleshy metal finger peeling the skin back. Dante screamed his liver [screamed his liver? oh my! 'screamed as', maybe?] was ripped to shreds inside himself. A giant dog jumped on the bed, the sheets rippling like the effect of ice shattering in the heat. The dog buried its muzzle into the bleeding wounds of Dante and ate his lunch, his dog bowl howling in pain as its interior was removed into the gullet of an animal. The Knight growled and hissed at the dog, digging his fingers into the dog's throat and throwing it across the room by its trachea. He watched the blood stain on the wall as the dog pounded into it. He turned back and faced Dante, relieving the anxiety of his gushing sea of self-satisfaction ['gushing sea of self satisfaction'? uhh. sorry, doesn't work for me. it's like you're trying to be real specific here, and use some good word play, but in this instance, what exactly is a gushing sea of self satisfaction? what is, for that matter, a gushing sea at all? how can a sea gush? how can you have a sea of an intangible emotion? i can see this being a bit better if 'gushing' became 'rising', however i still don't think that it works.] on Dante's pale, deceased face. The creatures of Dante's Knightmare faded as the X hit an ultimate feeling of guilt ['ultimate feeling of guilt' doesn't really work. it's like saying that a character is 'the most guilty they've ever been' or that 'bob was the angriest person in the entire universe' -- these kinds of bold statements don't really get you anywhere, since they don't evoke anything specific, do they? what exactly would the ultimate feeling of guilt feel like? you can't expect your reader to stop and think of the term and then conjure up their own feelings to go along with it. you have to provide them the sensations and feelings which you want the writing to evoke yourself.] and loss of life. The visions made real through the brain. Cut open down the center he died as the Knight's release fell to his lips and cheek, leaving a sticky mess of self-gratification.