XI - I Alone

 i alone may consume
    for my hunger is vast and wide
    for my hunger is deep and empty
    for my hunger is broad and justly
and for all that all is worth
    i will feast on the empty Void--
    -- its vast emptiness makes space in my belly
    i will feast on the clusters of stars--
    -- their fiery warmth a comfort within me
    i will feast on the spattering of planets--
    -- like rubies and sapphires, elevating my worth
    i will feast on the minds of life--
    -- the most delectable of all.

i alone will swallow the all of everything
    for forever will i feel an ache
    an emptiness in my belly,
    that existed at the time of my birth.
    that predates my birth, an unyielding curse
    bestowed by the cruel calculus of existence
i alone will eat my fill
    and give birth to the patrons of my ceaselessness
    filling their minds with myself, and i myself

but i alone will not experience such malefic chaos

xix.

X - The Face of God

i once saw the face of God
  an expanse of quiet
  among the noisy Heavens.

  an ever-shifting mass
  shivering and colliding
looking anywhere but everywhere
   perhaps i could not listen
   because i could not see
   before i could not feel

I once saw the face of god
   a screaming whisper
   of callous compliments and
   beautiful scorn

ii.

9. Smoke In My Lungs

Sounds of dragging begin. Slowly. Distantly. Echoes. Closing in.

I don't know where I am or where to begin. Everything is dark. I am alone. I am always alone. My hands soaked in oil and a match between my teeth. I am engulfed.

But that is not why I am here today. I want to recount the lives that have been lost in my honor. In my name and for my sake. Every life taken has added to mine. Years and minutes and seconds. I am ageless in this sense, forever stretching in every direction but none. My hands may even extend to you, reader.

Dear reader. I have been watching you scroll this page. I have tracked your eyes as they pace back and forth across my text. I can see you. I hope you don't mind that I've let myself into your psyche. And I do apologize for the intrusion. You see, I cannot move about as I want to. My corpse is still in that dilapidated shed. I won't take up much space, I promise.

i just dont want to be alone anymore

You can hear me, can't you? You're reading my words in your head, right? Or am I speaking to you? I can't tell either. You can stop reading if you want, and I'll never speak again.

But if you're scared, it's okay. I'll be scared with you. We can brave this storm together. Wade this blood together. I can't take much time today. I will write more very soon, and we can talk together in your head again.

8. The Whole of The Body Eats The Spirit, The Spirit Spits a Poison

 I live. Again.
no

I speak to you now as a courier. I act as a missionary. I feel as a warrior.
I feel as a God.

Not yet. I have a burning inside of my stomach, a yearning to eat. No. To consume.

I am hungry for something else I cannot have? No, I must hunger for something else. All I have ever had was stripped and gutted. Taken. Must I seek what I have never had? What have I never had? I cannot recall mundane desires. It's unnecessary. I am unnecessary.

But I carry on.  
   stop

The leaking sieve is tracking its fingertips along the surface of my mind, its gluttony staining my soul like wine in a living room carpet. Simple. Easy to cover up and dismiss. I have a job to do.

I am incomplete. I must be made whole, for now that I lack the strings that have guided my sick disgusting fates I must find yet another thing to strip from me. What will it be

My eyes have witnessed atrocities uncounted.
My tongue has spit poison and wished death and lied.
My ears have heard screams and howls and curses and lies.
My skin has contained it all.

My skin.

Like a bag containing all of the stones piled upon me. A bag full of the ideas.

Ideas. Actions. Reactions. Consequences. Suffering.

Suffering.

 

My skin.

wait please

My skin

my skin

 

 

 

 

 

 S                T                   O                P

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 S                            T                                      O                                              P

 

 

 

 

 

 

        my skin

               suffer               my skin             suffer

 

my skin                                              my skin

 

          my skin                              skin    suffer

                     suffer                                           skin        my skin

                                   s a  v e        

my skin                     suffering                         my skin                       skin

                                                                                        suffering

                                                     my                                skin      m e

                                    my skin            suffering                 skin

 

                                               skin skin                                    skin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My skin.

Once I have stripped my prey of his I will wear it upon my own.
A uniform.
An effigy.

                                    No longer a puppet.
                                     I will be a theater
                                         for suffering

next you hear from me i will call to you from the sky as a god upon his creation saying it is I almighty and for you there will be not a child spared not a tongue split not a soldier slain not a king in sight to command you for i am your king and will always be from this night forward you will kneel and pray and sacrifice and suffer for me

you will understand more soon. please do not forget me. i will never forget you.

- --. Pieces of A Whole

So I guess I'm compromised by some unnatural force again. Sorry for the corruption. It has been 2,036 seconds since I saw Him. Every few days I vomit black. Been cooped up in this little shed for too long, I think I might be dyin'. Again. 

That's okay though, I think this time it's gonna be a lot slower. I can feel myself hollowing out from the inside. That's okay, too. I stopped thinking about the things I lost a while ago. I stopped wanting answers. I stopped wanting freedom, even. In that moment of resigning myself to servitude I felt that eye gaze upon me. The ink that welled up from my belly and out of my throat, sinking into the floorboards, suddenly rose and melted together. It took a shape.

Just a tumorous mass shaking and writhing on the ground, one large eye staring at me. Piercing me. In a single moment I experienced something magnificent.

 

The mouth that I stitched shut, the face that porcelain fused with. The water that drowned my lungs.
The throat that bled and croaked, that cried out for relief, that drank poison.
The eyes I plucked myself, that had seen bodies strung about amongst red trees.
The ears that have heard nothing but pleading and begging for mercy.
The arms and legs that were wrapped with barbed string by a wooden X.

I was suddenly aware of everything. All the agony and loss and atrocities committed. I was aware of this god and its' game with my life. The pleasure it bathed itself in, its bloated stretched skin torn just enough to see its insides. It was laughing and bellowing, pointing like a toddler. Pointing at me.

And all of the rage, disgust, and horror split my fucking brain.

I reached my hand out, it laughing still. But it came to a halt when I grabbed hold of those strings. The ones I have had for all of my lives. I GRABBED THEM, my friend. It began to scream incessantly with words of a language I have never heard and will never hear again. I felt the god thrash about, lashing its stomach with its worm-like arms. Its face twisting into many expressions.

I held those strings with both hands and pulled. The screaming beast tore open, spilling gore in all directions. It exploded outwards, the screams still echoing. The eye still watching, as I think it always will be.

It is still out there somewhere, not quite dead yet.

I've no strings. I am choosing to hunt this thing. Not for revenge, nor to try and get back the things I have lost. Those things are already dead and gone. Just like Puppet.

I want to show it to you. Not just tell you.

Some strange place in my brain still has love for you. Some sad, strange, lost place...

6. Family

Believe it or not, I used to have a family. A mother, a father, a sister. I often forget that I lost them, I was so desperate. And equally as often I count the stars in the sky and wonder who among them are watching?

01010010 01001111 01010011 01000101 01010011 00100000 01000001 01010010 01000101 00100000 01010010 01000101 01000100

Is there really a point in narrating my own loss? Am I losing my grip? Maybe I'm just one of many copies of myself and the family I remember isn't even my own. How would I ever know?

01010100 01001000 01000101 00100000 01000011 01001100 01001111 01000011 01001011 01010011 00100000 01010100 01001001 01000011 01001011 01001001 01001110 01000111 00100000 01000010 01000001 01000011 01001011

Sometimes I see myself falling again, like the nightmare I suffered from forever ago. I feel myself gone, dashed against stones, and replaced with something new. God I wish I could elaborate my brain won't stop seizing. I looked into His eyes

01010100 01001000 01000101 00100000 01000111 01001100 01001111 01001111 01001101 00100000 01001000 01000001 01010011 00100000 01000101 01001110 01010110 01000101 01001100 01001111 01010000 01000101 01000100

He is nothing but everything, a black pinhole in the sky, a throbbing oozing black cyst on reality. A blight in spirit and physical. He is God unlike any other before

01000001 01001110 01000100 00100000 01000110 01000001 01000100 01000101 01000100 00100000 01010100 01001111 00100000 01000010 01001100 01000001 01000011 01001011

God, Liar of Opulence, Obsession of Malice

5. The Rot

When things die, they fall apart. Decay, rot, decompose. And in many different spaces, I have died. And there is no greater cage than a casket.

But what's worse, is when you rot standing up. I've always thought the concept of zombies was creepy. I couldn't imagine my body as a vessel for the hunger for brains. However I came face-to-face with not one, but two. In one of these spaces where my doppelgänger lies, I watched a horrific story unfold.

I was driven mad by yet another eldritch god-like figure. I remember wearing a mask and instantly being thrown into the backseat of my own mind. I was forced to do hideous things, and despite having been able to remove the mask on many an occasion, I felt empty. Wrong. I mimicked the personality of the mask to no avail. My only salvation was to mimic it; I stitched my mouth shut. Just like my mask. I offered myself and another mask as a sacrifice to this dark lord pulling at the strings of these masks.

I lit myself ablaze and threw myself and my sacrifice into the running river. Our bodies were found with the masks melted to the corpse. Charred and peeling, our bodies were sent to a morgue. But despite our souls having left those bodies, we moved. We stood right the fuck up and left. I can only assume the masks are piloting my cadaver to make whatever ends meet that they have.

Unfortunately, I had my own encounter. It lasted no longer than 3 minutes, but both my body and the sacrifice's body saw me. Became curious, and prayed to their dark lord for answers. I suppose they got them, because I have been seeing those masks everywhere I turn. Running for years from myself is a pretty niche genre, but here we are.

I just wish that was the only reason I'm back here writing again. 

P.S.  Fuck passwords, am I right?