Here I am... Here you are... By this time tomorrow, One of us will, hit by a car. Don't be a weak lamb, You won't feel my sorrow.

That moment when you realize the cereal you are eating is old, rotten, maggots and dead flies.....

That stench of disgusting human excretion of sebum and sweat..... I can't go on. I want to tear my fucking eyes out, and stick them up my nose to stop this overwhelming, bi-sensation of shit!

Everyone is fucking weak! You useless bacterial infections of existence. Consuming even your own to survive. You are what you eat... weak disgusting rotten ideas of humanistic actions.

Maggots, fucking maggots! We all crawl before we learn to walk, Or in this case fly.... Only to die and have all those around me consume the remnants of a lost existence.

I only continue because of this brain-dead life, to taste the flesh of another. They say it brings the knowledge of the vessel it worn torn from.

I can't feel anymore, inside and out. Mind and body, diluted with emotionless motives..... Why does it continue? As do I?

The feeling of the knife inside me.... How can I explain?? Like a papercut To the epidermis?? More like.. Penetration of this vessel. This disgusting receptacle of a soul. Чувство ножа внутри меня ...

I know you're there..... I hear you. Don't tell me that! How could you ss.. say that? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!