(no subject)
Stirred from slumber by a violent shudder I awake to find myself in some empty concrete room, my senses jarred and sluggish, my vision distorted. It feels both claustrophobic and expansive, the filth splashed walls seeming both vividly within touching distance and yet seeming farther away than perhaps is possible. Weakened by whatever torment brought me here I can barely move. It strikes me as curious as to the particulars of how I got here, my mind an empty shell, everything is as unfamiliar as a dream, but more disturbing is the lack of any entrance and therefore any exit to this room. Not that I could muster up any energy to drag myself from the small corner I find myself in. Still the confines of this tomb seem too unreal to be physically there. I reach out and feel the wall, cracked and dirty, eerily soft to the touch, as if I could push my fingers through into them.
I begin to dig at the bottom of the wall, furiously at first before I hear scratching akin to nails down a chalkboard. Stopping immediately I recoil in horror as I find that it wasn't the walls I was digging into but my own fingers, I have worn them down to the bone, my fingernails hanging by the merest membrane of skin. Yet I feel no pain, none as I would expect as I tentatively toy with tips of my finger, inspecting the bone. Disorientated I pull a drooping nail from my bloody finger. It falls away as if it weren't even mine, even my hands don't feel like my own, the absence of pain creating a most strange sensation throughout my body. I feel almost disconnected from myself and feel compelled to remove every one of my fingernails, growing more hysterical with every one removed. Surely it must be some form of anaesthetic, however my fingers are not numbed, I can feel everything, just not pain. Growing further maniacal I root around the detritus in the corners of my concrete prison, finding in a pile of dust a few shards of broken glass. Upon finding a fragment of sufficient size I fastidiously carve great lengths up and down my arms and chest. Still no pain is felt, I should be in agony, but instead I'm bleeding copiously, feeling every trickle of blood run down my skin. Pushing my fingers into one of the large gashes on my arm I feel about inside myself with no pain to stop me from ripping the flesh right from the bone leaving most of my left arm without skin. I surely cannot exist without pain; this must be some dream, some nightmare...
Slumping into the opposite corner of the small confined space I find myself trapped in, I notice that there is no light source, yet I can see, the room is illuminated but I cannot see from what. My senses are failing me, confused and angered I lash out at myself, reaching up to my face to gouge my eyes out, pushing a couple of fingers into my right eye. The eyeball is soon crushed and I twist at it in an attempt to scoop the mess out, pulling out what I can and inspecting the remains with my good eye before hurling it at the wall and reaching in to gouge out my left eye as well. Still no pain, instead I can see my dirty, bleeding fingers grow closer until blurred beyond recognition, followed by the exquisite sensation of pushing back my eyeball until it ruptures, leaking its gelatinous contents down the side of my face along with a hot stream of blood. Sitting back it becomes most evident that I could not have destroyed my eyes, as somehow I can still see. How this is possible is beyond any comprehension of my understanding. Collapsing in a bloody mess on the ground, freezing, sickened and substantially pleasured by the self-destruction and mutilation, I struggle with the questions most apparent to me. Yet I cannot come up with any answers.
Shaking from the cold I observe an insekt crawling through one of the cracks in the wall. I had noticed a few of them before but there seem to be more now, crawling in from the cracks, all manner of jointed creature massing around the remains of my body that I've hurled across the room. I feel trapped, more so in my own body than this tomb, trying to resist the temptation to mutilate myself further knowing death must surely come soon, but I watch for hours maybe days as more insekts come to feed on the flesh I've torn off my arm. Lying immobile on the floor, flicking away any creature that comes too close, I struggle to keep more and more of them at bay and within moments it is obvious what is to happen. In a futile effort I brush away the creeping carpet of insekts that move in closer, smashing them with my fist until my fist is broken and worn away, and then it is too late. I am inundated in insekts. I can feel them crawling into my wounds, my eye sockets, my mouth, I can feel everything, every chitinous jaw, every movement; I cannot remove them from my body, which by now no longer feels anything like my own. I feel as though I am encased in flesh, that the flesh is not part of who I am. It seems pointless to try but I undertake one last effort to crawl away from the growing black mass of tiny eyes and jaws, leaving whole limbs behind for them to feast upon, but there is no escape and the whole room is soon filled and I am submersed in what now seems a single entity comprising of billions of insekts. The thick smell of blood and insekt is suffocating - I retch. Vomiting up mouthful after mouthful of arthropod and blood. I cannot expel enough though and I struggle to maintain any sanity as I am slowly over days eaten away, inside and out by a million tiny mouths...
I begin to dig at the bottom of the wall, furiously at first before I hear scratching akin to nails down a chalkboard. Stopping immediately I recoil in horror as I find that it wasn't the walls I was digging into but my own fingers, I have worn them down to the bone, my fingernails hanging by the merest membrane of skin. Yet I feel no pain, none as I would expect as I tentatively toy with tips of my finger, inspecting the bone. Disorientated I pull a drooping nail from my bloody finger. It falls away as if it weren't even mine, even my hands don't feel like my own, the absence of pain creating a most strange sensation throughout my body. I feel almost disconnected from myself and feel compelled to remove every one of my fingernails, growing more hysterical with every one removed. Surely it must be some form of anaesthetic, however my fingers are not numbed, I can feel everything, just not pain. Growing further maniacal I root around the detritus in the corners of my concrete prison, finding in a pile of dust a few shards of broken glass. Upon finding a fragment of sufficient size I fastidiously carve great lengths up and down my arms and chest. Still no pain is felt, I should be in agony, but instead I'm bleeding copiously, feeling every trickle of blood run down my skin. Pushing my fingers into one of the large gashes on my arm I feel about inside myself with no pain to stop me from ripping the flesh right from the bone leaving most of my left arm without skin. I surely cannot exist without pain; this must be some dream, some nightmare...
Slumping into the opposite corner of the small confined space I find myself trapped in, I notice that there is no light source, yet I can see, the room is illuminated but I cannot see from what. My senses are failing me, confused and angered I lash out at myself, reaching up to my face to gouge my eyes out, pushing a couple of fingers into my right eye. The eyeball is soon crushed and I twist at it in an attempt to scoop the mess out, pulling out what I can and inspecting the remains with my good eye before hurling it at the wall and reaching in to gouge out my left eye as well. Still no pain, instead I can see my dirty, bleeding fingers grow closer until blurred beyond recognition, followed by the exquisite sensation of pushing back my eyeball until it ruptures, leaking its gelatinous contents down the side of my face along with a hot stream of blood. Sitting back it becomes most evident that I could not have destroyed my eyes, as somehow I can still see. How this is possible is beyond any comprehension of my understanding. Collapsing in a bloody mess on the ground, freezing, sickened and substantially pleasured by the self-destruction and mutilation, I struggle with the questions most apparent to me. Yet I cannot come up with any answers.
Shaking from the cold I observe an insekt crawling through one of the cracks in the wall. I had noticed a few of them before but there seem to be more now, crawling in from the cracks, all manner of jointed creature massing around the remains of my body that I've hurled across the room. I feel trapped, more so in my own body than this tomb, trying to resist the temptation to mutilate myself further knowing death must surely come soon, but I watch for hours maybe days as more insekts come to feed on the flesh I've torn off my arm. Lying immobile on the floor, flicking away any creature that comes too close, I struggle to keep more and more of them at bay and within moments it is obvious what is to happen. In a futile effort I brush away the creeping carpet of insekts that move in closer, smashing them with my fist until my fist is broken and worn away, and then it is too late. I am inundated in insekts. I can feel them crawling into my wounds, my eye sockets, my mouth, I can feel everything, every chitinous jaw, every movement; I cannot remove them from my body, which by now no longer feels anything like my own. I feel as though I am encased in flesh, that the flesh is not part of who I am. It seems pointless to try but I undertake one last effort to crawl away from the growing black mass of tiny eyes and jaws, leaving whole limbs behind for them to feast upon, but there is no escape and the whole room is soon filled and I am submersed in what now seems a single entity comprising of billions of insekts. The thick smell of blood and insekt is suffocating - I retch. Vomiting up mouthful after mouthful of arthropod and blood. I cannot expel enough though and I struggle to maintain any sanity as I am slowly over days eaten away, inside and out by a million tiny mouths...