Thursday, 24 January 2013

Hell 4

I get a severe cut on my chin, going down my bottom lip and I can spread it out, blood not flowing, looking up, playing with the skin, not feeling anything, a mere illusion of the self.

I blame the first fucker on the street.

I scream at him different lyrics from a David Bowie song out of the blue and I strike my fist at him, screaming just my voice, no voice, no sounds, like a war cry, comparing myself to something simple, meat being my evolution, so I jump on him, strangling him, I don’t see his hair, everything is flashing and the corners of my vision are burning.

He gasps.

His chest moves up and I bite him into his shoulder, digging into the flesh, licking the blood off like a bad topping, getting to the muscle. Muscle being our meat, food to feed the rest.

I yank off something out, something attached and his eyes glow, teeth like stars in an abyss. I start massaging his head

I lean back, giving out a burp as I hear sirens sing.

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