𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒.

(         he will deny any accountability for his destruction. it was the earth, he thinks, that spat him out with the resemblance of a painting not quite finished. he has frayed wires now, something in him that’s wrong and in despair. a mechanical issue, that’s all. just some involuntary splutter of his engine. no oil, no gasoline, no grease.       )            he learns how to speak like a god. loud and demanding and distant. he dedicates himself to the art of manipulation: to be here and not here, to be present and yet, entirely absent. he separates himself from the dirt and the seawater. the world spins and he remains the same - stoic, untouchable, unreachable.   I AM WAITING FOR SOMETHING, FOR A LARGE WINTER THAW OR FOR A MIRROR THAT WON’T SHUDDER AND CRACK. TIME SLOWS, THERE IS NOTHING HERE EXCEPT FOR ME AND AN ACHE TO BELONG. I LIVE WITH SHAME. I FEED IT, NURTURE IT, GIVE IT A PLACE TO SLEEP.  I CHOMP AT THE BIT TO BE VALUABLE, IMPECCABLY IRREPLACEABLE. MY DOOM APPROACHES.  his earlier experiences with co-existence were toughened and tenderized only by lack of attention. he grew armor over his skin, made sure his molars fit perfectly into the flesh of his own fate. he became animal and man and everything in between. his skills sharpened, his need to assimilate overruled his need for vengeance. the retribution has been depleted, yet every so often he can hear it dragging itself back on hind legs and crawl up out his throat.   (      DOES IT BOTHER ME? THE LACK OF SUBSTANCE, THE THINNESS OF MY VOICE? I AM NOT REAL, I AM NOT REAL. THIS IS EASY TO REMEMBER AS I TIGHTEN THE BOLTS OF MY NEW FACE. THIS TIME IT WON’T FALL OFF SO EASILY. THIS TIME I WON’T BE FOUND OUT.  )  * the habits make a man. another whiskey, another beer, another buzzing emptiness the lowered risk of nightmares. he sits as though he’s on edge, spine arched and chin tilted with an arrogant tilt.*  the suspicions multiple. they thrive in colder environments and in the open mouths of liars.  he offers up a loosely held smile, feigned with the belief that this will be a short conversation. with a scoff he finishes the last of his beer and slides the glass in front of him, singles to the bartender for another. ‘HARD NOT TO, S’ALL YOU’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT FOR THE PAST HOUR. Y’MUST BE A REAL HIT AT PARTIES.’

he takes a pause to fully glance at her, observations noted and stored within a few seconds. considering that he and his brother are in town regarding the very deaths she’s speaking of, he decides to engage. the voice is different than his usual, laced with a professionalism that ties in with his current alias. a hum of interest, the smile slips and it looks too crooked now. ‘S’THAT WHAT YOU’RE FEELING? SAD? DID YOU KNOW ANY OF THE VICTIMS?’

𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 ––––– 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒕.       can’t  tell  if  it’s  real,     though.                   the  way  the  tears  threaten  to  well  in  her  eyes,   surrogate  sorrow  to  replace  the  humor  that  wells  up  in  her  lower  gut.     𝑵𝑶 𝑳𝑨𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮, 𝑵𝑶 𝑳𝑨𝑼𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 !!!!     The Creature  presses  itself  to  her  diaphragm     &     she  takes  another  swig  to  wash  It  down.         the  sweetness  makes  itself  known,       too  much  sugar,     too  much  yeast  that  sticks  to  the top  of  her  tongue.         (           this  damn   -   sweet   -   kind  thing  turns  within  my   [   her   ]    gut,     eating  away  at  the  𝖋𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖍  of  my  𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻     &     it  grows  back.       is  devoured,     is grown  back.     isdevoured,  is  grown back.    itdevouredis grown back, isdevouredisgrown back         )         another  swig,      then  a  light  smile  on  her  face.         𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎,    chuckle.

❛❛    OH   ––––––    has  it  already  been  that long      ?        ❞        her  gums  bleed  with  the  taste  of  𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤.         the  remnants  of  a  laugh,     pushed  down       &       half   -   forgotten,       finally  make  their  way  past  her  mouth.         she  laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs.      quietly,       –––––   though.

she  mumbles  another  response,     something  passing  about  partying,     about  her  tongue       &       her  lips  wrap  around  her  bottle  again.     a  surprise  for  the  bile  that  slips  through  her  mouth      (       stomach  twists,     turns,     she  can  smell  the  saliva  on  his  tongue     &     her   ––  it’s  ––  mouth  waters.     hungry, hungry,hungryhungryh       )         &       falls  into  the  last  of  her  beer.       parasite’s  𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖚𝖉𝖊    :     she  props  her  chin  up  with  a  fist,     beer  -  bottle  turned  around     &     then  set  down.         her  mouth  twists  around  all  sweet  -  like,     gentle  tongue  to  prod  at  semi  -  open,     vile  -  bile  mouth.           PICTURE  AS  SUCH     :      she  holds  herself  𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖊,     bones  taut  against  skin     &     hidden  underneath  a  red  cable knit  sweater.         her  skin  p   u   l   l   s  at  itself,     ˢᵃᵍging  at  the  wrist  in  excess,     eyes  pulling  themselves  deeper  into  her  skull.         her    [   my   ]   breath  still  smells  of  𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖉𝖞,     gooey  flesh  but    ––––––––––  

❛❛             𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 ––––– 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓.            ❞                     cynic’s  𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊   ;     & ,      her  mouth  twists  all  sweet  -  like  ,      gentle  tongue  to  prod  at  semi  -  open  mouth  like  a sinner  on  the  verge  of  repentance.       syllables  feel  like  grief  in  her  bones     –––––     PICTURE  AS  SUCH    :      her  body  is  𝔩𝔦𝔪𝔭  ,     bones  taught  against  the  skin     &,     pulling   /   shifting  ,     twitching  as  if  possessed.         she  gulps   the  phlegm  build  -  up  in  her  maw      &,       speaks  again  ,     slow     &,     steady.        (            the  damned  thing  twists  and  turns  within  her    [   my  ]   gut     &,      my  breath  still  smells  of  𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖉𝖞  ,      𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒆𝒚  flesh    !!!            )          ❛❛        or  we  could  be  better.       [     a  pause   and   she  swallows  again.    ]        a  sticky  situation,    we’re  in      &      aren’t  we  the  ones  to  blame    ––––––        ❞