(no subject)
Nietzsche once said something to the effect that
“the soul will die before the body, and then you will have nothing to fear.”
Well I’m not afraid of anything anymore, and you should be scared.
I swear I tried to protect you, but He just won’t let me rest.
I’m His martyr. I give to others what He won’t allow me to have.
Next.
I’m exhaling long plumes of smoke of a drug that none of you have ever heard of, and every once in a while I could swear one of the clouds coming out of me is actually my father’s ghost and I start to become aware that somewhere along the line it had all changed. No longer was I doing drugs for fun or for enlightenment. Nowadays it was just a contest to see how much I could do to my brain and my body without suffering consequences. People no longer knew when I was high, and in fact the only times I got asked what I was on anymore were the rare occasions that I was sober. Even I was starting to feel more normal and more comfortable when the entire world had been warped and skewed and seared by the chemicals than I did with a clear head. How had I been allowed to kick this pitbull for so long without getting bit, I wondered. “Bite me, motherfucker, bite,” I started chanting through clenched teeth, and then stopping when I suddenly realized that I might be giving the wrong impression to the girl that was blowing me. I didn’t remember how it got started or even necessarily who she was, or even necessarily if she was female or human, but I didn’t want to give whatever it was the opportunity to injure me, so I waited until it had taken its mouth enough off my shaft to allow me to punch it. The uppercut managed to lift it enough off my dick for me to get a proper jab on its nose, and while in motion I found that it was a girl, a rather pretty one, really, at least up until the point that I knocked one of her front teeth out. As I made contact, some of the capsules I’d swallowed earlier must have kicked in because everything shifted to high-contrast black and white and it was now black that was bubbling out of her mouth, and I told her quite sincerely that most of the time morals in life were just shades of grey as I dove under the covers and everything went black, and I forgot where I was, and I didn’t ever want to find out.
Next.
Her pain was so obvious that I was amazed she didn’t constantly bleed from every orifice out of heartache. She wore the gruesome nature of what was probably every single relationship with a male she’d ever had like a mortal wound, as self-evident as 40 weeks of pregnancy and just as much of a threat to her future. It’s tempting to think that these things can be changed, that people like her can be helped, healed, saved, etc., but they don’t even make movies like that anymore. Canines have more instinct for choosing owners than women do for choosing men (not the only respect in which puppies have an advantage over pussy, by the way), and 99 out of 100 strays remain strays because they’ve gotten used to being kicked around. Remarkably, the female human breed of dog, once prompted initially with an abusive mate, will seek out similarly masochistic relationships repeatedly with uncanny ability, despite their lack of an advanced smell sense. It is with this overdeveloped metaphor in mind that I decide I’m not going to waste my time and soul in what I know is a far-too optimistic attempt to protect her not just from everyone else, but from herself as well. It occurred to me during the drive that perhaps I shouldn’t forsake her completely, but rather just switch the method. This wound can’t be healed with the gentle caress of loving fingers because it goes too deep, so instead let’s push those same fingers in as far as they’ll go and pry the fleshy recess open wide to expose it all to the air. The shock factor will be intregral to the success of my plan, so I resist her blatant sexual overtures at first, resisting and refusing groping, just holding her face in my hands as I kiss her, holding it for as long as possible. I can only assume that she was righteously confused when my right hand slid along her face and neck to the back of her head where I grabbed a handful of hair as tight as I could and yanked her backwards hard enough to make her scream, which I wasn’t particularly interested in listening to, so I spun her around and took her feet out from under her, dropping her face-first onto the floor. I suspect that it broke her nose based on how quickly the blood spread across the pillow I took from the bed to put underneath her head so that I could muffle her yelps better. I tried to make the sex as rough and unlovingly as possible, purely mechanical, and I was surprised when after almost ten minutes she was still struggling and trying to make noise. You would think she’d be used to it. I leaned in close to her ear and tried to talk some sense into her-“You shut up. You shut up and you fucking take it,” I said, and she appeared to understand the utter truth of it by the way that her whole body just went limp. She even helped me out by opening her legs a little bit wider, which simplified the thrusting process a great deal. When it was all finished, which is to say that I had finished, and inside of her, no less, I figured that the next step had to be hers, so I simply withdrew and stood up. It took almost a minute for her to move at all, and even then she barely lifted her head up from the pillow. She slowly turned her head upwards, only getting so far as to be able to get a peek at me from the corner of her eye. It sounded like she choked on something, maybe blood, before she hoarsely uttered my name. “Yes, my dear,” I responded, waiting tensely for the uncontestable truth that I was sure I had managed to fuck into her. She locked her one eye with mine and grinned with lips basted in blood and said, “That was the best I’ve ever had.”
Next.
And you should be scared because it’s going to be someone like me who brings this all to a close.
Someone like me who fucks it all up.
Someone like me with his finger on the button,
With his finger on the trigger,
With his knife to your throat,
With your family’s faces hanging from his belt,
Someone like me, Someone JUST LIKE ME, who’ll know that it’s coming for you,
And who won’t say a fucking word.
Because… because you should have to know it too.
“the soul will die before the body, and then you will have nothing to fear.”
Well I’m not afraid of anything anymore, and you should be scared.
I swear I tried to protect you, but He just won’t let me rest.
I’m His martyr. I give to others what He won’t allow me to have.
Next.
I’m exhaling long plumes of smoke of a drug that none of you have ever heard of, and every once in a while I could swear one of the clouds coming out of me is actually my father’s ghost and I start to become aware that somewhere along the line it had all changed. No longer was I doing drugs for fun or for enlightenment. Nowadays it was just a contest to see how much I could do to my brain and my body without suffering consequences. People no longer knew when I was high, and in fact the only times I got asked what I was on anymore were the rare occasions that I was sober. Even I was starting to feel more normal and more comfortable when the entire world had been warped and skewed and seared by the chemicals than I did with a clear head. How had I been allowed to kick this pitbull for so long without getting bit, I wondered. “Bite me, motherfucker, bite,” I started chanting through clenched teeth, and then stopping when I suddenly realized that I might be giving the wrong impression to the girl that was blowing me. I didn’t remember how it got started or even necessarily who she was, or even necessarily if she was female or human, but I didn’t want to give whatever it was the opportunity to injure me, so I waited until it had taken its mouth enough off my shaft to allow me to punch it. The uppercut managed to lift it enough off my dick for me to get a proper jab on its nose, and while in motion I found that it was a girl, a rather pretty one, really, at least up until the point that I knocked one of her front teeth out. As I made contact, some of the capsules I’d swallowed earlier must have kicked in because everything shifted to high-contrast black and white and it was now black that was bubbling out of her mouth, and I told her quite sincerely that most of the time morals in life were just shades of grey as I dove under the covers and everything went black, and I forgot where I was, and I didn’t ever want to find out.
Next.
Her pain was so obvious that I was amazed she didn’t constantly bleed from every orifice out of heartache. She wore the gruesome nature of what was probably every single relationship with a male she’d ever had like a mortal wound, as self-evident as 40 weeks of pregnancy and just as much of a threat to her future. It’s tempting to think that these things can be changed, that people like her can be helped, healed, saved, etc., but they don’t even make movies like that anymore. Canines have more instinct for choosing owners than women do for choosing men (not the only respect in which puppies have an advantage over pussy, by the way), and 99 out of 100 strays remain strays because they’ve gotten used to being kicked around. Remarkably, the female human breed of dog, once prompted initially with an abusive mate, will seek out similarly masochistic relationships repeatedly with uncanny ability, despite their lack of an advanced smell sense. It is with this overdeveloped metaphor in mind that I decide I’m not going to waste my time and soul in what I know is a far-too optimistic attempt to protect her not just from everyone else, but from herself as well. It occurred to me during the drive that perhaps I shouldn’t forsake her completely, but rather just switch the method. This wound can’t be healed with the gentle caress of loving fingers because it goes too deep, so instead let’s push those same fingers in as far as they’ll go and pry the fleshy recess open wide to expose it all to the air. The shock factor will be intregral to the success of my plan, so I resist her blatant sexual overtures at first, resisting and refusing groping, just holding her face in my hands as I kiss her, holding it for as long as possible. I can only assume that she was righteously confused when my right hand slid along her face and neck to the back of her head where I grabbed a handful of hair as tight as I could and yanked her backwards hard enough to make her scream, which I wasn’t particularly interested in listening to, so I spun her around and took her feet out from under her, dropping her face-first onto the floor. I suspect that it broke her nose based on how quickly the blood spread across the pillow I took from the bed to put underneath her head so that I could muffle her yelps better. I tried to make the sex as rough and unlovingly as possible, purely mechanical, and I was surprised when after almost ten minutes she was still struggling and trying to make noise. You would think she’d be used to it. I leaned in close to her ear and tried to talk some sense into her-“You shut up. You shut up and you fucking take it,” I said, and she appeared to understand the utter truth of it by the way that her whole body just went limp. She even helped me out by opening her legs a little bit wider, which simplified the thrusting process a great deal. When it was all finished, which is to say that I had finished, and inside of her, no less, I figured that the next step had to be hers, so I simply withdrew and stood up. It took almost a minute for her to move at all, and even then she barely lifted her head up from the pillow. She slowly turned her head upwards, only getting so far as to be able to get a peek at me from the corner of her eye. It sounded like she choked on something, maybe blood, before she hoarsely uttered my name. “Yes, my dear,” I responded, waiting tensely for the uncontestable truth that I was sure I had managed to fuck into her. She locked her one eye with mine and grinned with lips basted in blood and said, “That was the best I’ve ever had.”
Next.
And you should be scared because it’s going to be someone like me who brings this all to a close.
Someone like me who fucks it all up.
Someone like me with his finger on the button,
With his finger on the trigger,
With his knife to your throat,
With your family’s faces hanging from his belt,
Someone like me, Someone JUST LIKE ME, who’ll know that it’s coming for you,
And who won’t say a fucking word.
Because… because you should have to know it too.