drip... drip drip. and the blood is gone, down the sink to meld with the worlds waste. a couple severed limbs salted and drying. a fresh stress test, i dont go out in my own suit. borrowed then cast.fresh. some still smell of fear, like dry piss through the pours. a better suit then my own, just discard it, discard you. not even before your a fleshy puddle abandoned do i have my sights on a new outfit. this one is a little baggy and saggy but why not. fresh flesh for another stress test. meat cleaver and a flaying blade here we go again. out in the open and sheltered by darkness, why do i think i lurk at night. coming back each night looking like ive seen a monster, nay be it only the reflection in truth, the only solace in this sinister creature is thinking they wont see me hidden. like i can stay in heat and not get burn? but if i stay in the dark and cold, it just might freeze oe. in the meantime, between certain self conflictions and disastrous indications, i digress to the infliction. leaving the room so freshly dressed. the mask of before left to rot on the ground. a death mask, dead skin, a face no longer in resemblance of who it had been now a congealing mass attracting flies. onto the living, on to the scared and frightful. weary as it may be, my art project awakes, awaits, and shakes. a dazed slump just showering whispers of saviors. i can speak, i can stay silent. no matter which way, things will become repugnant, only i can turn away now. i dont need to look, i dont need to hear nor see. just feel. sat down, strap down, arm on rest, my right and cleaver in the air. silence is the key. silence for me to hear how fast the brain perceives a hand removed. a scream and a squirt, a pulse with no where to go. the vascular system so exposed, veins, bone and arteries so well rounded. inner components in chaos likea 50 car pile up, still the same sound. its the same sound every time. the same sound that said nothing, the same sound that seems like a painting. the monster feels at home now. in the darkness below the world watch it seep. its pulse is down, from the start it surged my brain, and now its physically the same. slowed and reduced. do i stand and take the other. see if your still in there. i think i will. besides, i could i always use a matching glove. i rise, i see the drip... drip drip drip. its sparking in my brain, the lust for the splattered. grab the clamp n shut the vein... grab the clamp and pull the vein. pull it out. you hear that noise? its a new song. ive never extracted a human vein and now... now i know i like to dismantle things. one by one, my eyes are gone, white with a mystic sense. your still awake, but i think your at your end. a vascular system plucked by the wound. grotesque yet intricate. theres no more blood in there. white and weak. pale and tired. cleaver in hand again, oh god this cleavers through your hand again and i think im gaining my mind back. its clear you cant take this. your useless and a stub. ill let you go. tied broken, chopped and picked apart. creative is as creative will. do i strip you alive or do i give you a portion of mercy? mercy is of course for those who learn, and i of course wouldnt let this end till youve felt the last part of my self. the flaying knife, the arms has a flesh that would strip easy, too tired too scream, your watch the flesh peel away, like a scab you couldnt imagine. peeling away like nothing, peeling with muscles popping from the exo skin. its ripped, its cut, its gone. youve had enough, good night with a flaying knife, slice, the last of a choking breath, and... the lights are out. and when they finaly come back, ill be wearing you in the sun.
Posted on: Thu, 18 Jul 2013 21:26:08 +0000
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