goddammit

i need your fucking flesh. your fucking flesh and your fucking flesh.
i cannot work without it. there's no point. literally and figuratively. i just sit here and look at pictures of pieces of things and meaningless shapes and feel unfulfilled and need it. NEED it. what i have now, the stupidly wide archives, just stares back at me through milky plastic with its dull and used up crusty eye sockets and pisses me off. i could delete it all and never know i had anything to miss. this meat, THIS meat, is necessary. this. is. necessary.
life. feeds.

pictures of surviving suicides by gunshot to the head and watching a cleaver chop into the top of someone's head over and over again have led to me thinking about how nice it would be to have an eeg (or better) running while someone is decapitated. i'm sure i'll find something interesting to read on the topic.

there's more sake to drink. and a muscle i need to pick up. and your fucking flesh: gives me it. i'm going to take it from you eventually anyway.

there aren't enough ***** right now.
i want to suck you down.
more and more thinly my strand of connection to her becomes and all i want to do is find her side again.
it's so hard to stay within all the screaming. i had no idea it would turn out this way and have chewed my lips down to their base.