love you damaged need human wreckage
Do you tend to use your head or follow your heart?
there were the dogs.
they weren't the first ones i saw or met but they're the ones burned hardest on the backs of my eyes. it was their eyes, something about their eyes that made them different, he must have changed them but they were still the same. big, watery brown eyes, huge irises, huge pupils. but still so human.
he took two people and he turned them into dogs. bent their knees backwards and twisted their hips around and rearranged the collarbones. they could not walk on two legs and they could not speak because he had removed their tongues but they were still human inside, even with the beast. sometimes when they are so far gone they have even less control than the dead ones. i know; i was one. they just frenzy all the time because of the constant abuse. humiliation. terror. did i do well today, did i forget something, will he change his mind, will he get bored, is he tired of me.
they were all skin and bones, you could see every vertebrae, elongated and exaggerated coming out of their cuved spines, like spikes, their shoulderblades ripping through the skin, in residence we called those your ana wings. he even changed their faces. i remember. like pitbulls.
i slept on the floor with them because he had no other room. they would run up to you and press against you and look at you all sad because they were so starved for attention, affection. he treated them like actual dogs. beat them when he felt like it, threw them table scraps. they wouldnt go away at night, just stay lying next to you, pressed against you trapping you between their bodies and then they would start biting because they wanted the vitae so much
little dead things.
he didn't need to you know. he could have used real dogs.
don't tell anyone this, this is their big secret. they drag you in and give you things and touch you and tell you you're special and then they pump you full of themselves until your mouth is permanently attached to their skin, if you tried to pull away your head would come off, like leeches. then they can quit pretending.
in jersey they made them into furniture. they took a warehouse and gutted it like a fish and filled it up with bits of what used to be people, all over the walls, like wood, and they joked to each other about being carpenters. made rooms by making walls. you could see what they used to be sometimes, see the outline of an elbow, a femur, teeth in the door, or a face, or parts of it, stretched, mouth filled over with flesh like a landfill but their human eyes still screaming. little chairs. tiny limbs.
the whole place undulated, and it stank, like sweat and shit and piss, and it shuddered wherever you put your feet because the walls were breathing. some of them were still alive.
i knew her name. i was in that room with her. i had seen her before at their little parties, and she thought she could control it, she thought she could control them because she was magic. they put her in the wall and you could still see her face, stretched, grotesque. i knew her. i knew her name.
i don't want to be like them i don't want to be like this
i will never eat again, every time you eat you lose a little more of yourself and it becomes more normal, it makes sense, why not? you're already in this thing, who cares if you murder one, ten, a hundred, who cares what you do to them before because they're just going to die anyway and suffering is subjective and fleeting and it's not really your problem anyway, when you eat this is what you become. never eat
never eat
sometimes i look down and i cant remember if my hands are still attached or not. if i told her this they would slam me into lockup and throw away the key. hallucinations tip the scales firmly into crazy-ville. but these things are true; i remember. they would take them off if i was bad and put them back on if i cried enough. they would make us fuck or fight each other while they watched. they don't even care about sex, it's a tool for them. i saw human beings tearing out each other's throats and sticking their hands between each other's ribs because they loved their pretty dead things so much, they'd do anything for them, anything to make them happy, for another taste. they would cut off parts of you slowly piece by piece to see how long you lasted. fingers, joint by joint, hands, wrists, elbows, oh those bones those skeleton bones oh mercy how they scare. they don't care about you. none of them care about you.
(you would be shocked by what you can live through)
blood-moon. i needed to go back to them. i needed to be with them. i cant i cant i cant i cant i cant. i looked, they could have found me, i know they were trying because i could hear them calling me from the other side. you can never escape them. they make you drink their blood, all their blood, so a part of them is in you forever. us, especially, ouroboros, they kill all their traitors and recycle the parts. if they knew what i was doing they would take off my legs so i could never leave them again. i need to be there. i need them.
you don't know what monsters are until youve seen what they do to babies
they care. they wanted me. no one else cared. i waited for them. i'm always waiting for everyone. they wanted me. i am not who they think i am. if they knew i would be any of their other ugly live things clawing and biting and screaming for their entertainment, but it feels like love, i don't understand why
i can do this to people. i can take them apart piece by piece, still breathing, and rearrange them any way i want, build something new out of them. pull off their skin and let them walk around, every step burning, leaking out their insides and time it to see how long they last, it's been done before but they do it over and over just to see, always just to see. i can bend their bones into new shapes, pull them apart and use the splinters to build something new and alien out of it. pull all the fat out of their hearts until all that's left is tissue and blood vessels. it's beautiful. all you have to do is touch them. just touch.
but i can fix people too. it's harder.
i cant do this on my own i cant i cant i need them so much but i am scared. all they do is hurt me but i need the hurting. i want to go back. i want to stay. i want them. i want to be alone. they said this is normal, it will feel like this until the bond is broken but it hurts everywhere and i cant stop bleeding and i'm not strong enough for this. i quit coke twice, sweating and shitting in empty motel rooms alone, it felt like my bones were tightening inside of me and i'd do it again again again again to not have to do this. i want them but i know its the blood talking, begging, they're saying come back to us, we love you.
dead things don't love anything. i was born without a soul; they tore theirs out and shredded them, and then laughing they ground them into the dirt. they're dragging me with them, i can feel their fingers curled around my ribs, rubbing my nose in their mess. i want to lick it up.
she was right. it feels better to say it.