there's someone here.
a thickening psychology, a flesh eating mind, cannibalistic understanding. is the destruction of flesh orgasmic?
i stand infront of the meat section in the supermarket. i want to rip the plastic wrap and kiss the flesh, rosy and florid. i can feel the heat in it, no matter how cold the freezer, no matter how decayed the body. i can smell the rot inside me. it is killing me, how strong it is, rancid, putrefaction in me. intimacy interlinked, no matter how clean, how scraped and ashen i become, the fetid flesh within me screams. torturing me to death. like puppies with muzzles soaked in sweet blush, they're rippling my tendons, ripping away white fat from red muscle. slamming me into the wall, licking me clean of autonomy.
how many times can i replicate myself, like a prion, rending the humanity that was once stripped from me.when i dissect myself, tearing out pieces of my body, bursting out the strips of flesh carved away, i can break myself. i can break myself. phantasmagorical, letting my body reshape itself over my destruction. and destroying it again. until i am.