Friday, November 07, 2008

Modern love

The best part of suffering is the horrified look of your friends when you’ve clearly lost it. That bewildered stare as pulpy flesh swings from your jowls, the tremulous caution that stays their hand as you gorge yourself on morbid and unsanitary risk. Devouring people is hard; it’s a detriment to your own well being. When you’re up to your elbows in guts you’re bound to catch something.

I’m scared of the future; I’m not really that satisfied. I didn’t envision my life like this, covered in all this blood.

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