I dont know why it was those two that kept me open the most; but when l eat, I keep seeing their faces despite having killed a lot many more than just those two
The world became a lot greener after that. It's like nobody else existed, and, while people did still breathe, they didn't seem any different from animal
So when I got hungry, and the fields were sparser and choked, and the animals staring, I'd eat them too
And they can be debilitating, when they appear faceless in my walks alone I can see randoms when I'm huddling in the caves or roaming the dark
And when I'm scared and I hit them, they disappear and I laugh knowing I wanted them to stay
Maybe just to eat them, but I know what I am
I wake up sometimes and I fall from the ground into a deep pit that surrounds me with loud, rivers that pierce the screaming in orchestra
The ground below me is rock and dull, and I can't make anything past the waters, but I know there's nothing there
And I'm stuck to listen until it's done, I kept those two alive for a very long time
in the midst of one of my agonies I was interrupted by the breaking of a block; don't get me wrong, I felt like that was a part of the imagery too.
so you could imagine my surprise when it turned out to have been something.
They stood behind the part of the wall they broke down, body halved in blacks and yellows Being reminded of my precious, precious eightfold path, I did shove aside the pain for their audacity.
They didn't stray from my movements like the animals, so they were willed in that sense-hardiness fresh for the plucking. In fact, they rushed me, with a mimicry of my own cleaver that was clean of my art
I exchanged rawness, the other was no less but that didn't make them more than me. I was a bit disgusted, so they died too and they came back the next morning. So I did it again. And they came back. So l did it again. And again. And again. And again when they started to shy away.
It's an unfortunate thing to be under the dharmic wheel with me, because I'm wholly exempt from it entirely. Once you begin to understand this, I'll welcome you with open arms, tight like a tendon snap
They tried to make a reversion of me, but I hear scarier things in the caves on a whim. When I don't make my hunt at night, those two are stronger as animals than just them alone and I don't need my cleaver to make a message of that.
They can't haunt me as a perpetrator reflection, only as the animal now.
they hid like a shell, even amidst the plainness of the world; im not sure why they bothered if they were sent here for me. did they all not know? im sure wish they did.
despite this, id leave a gratuitous trail behind with a smell drawn towards them so they'd always know id be there for them
To me, it used to be differentiated based on type. People used to smell like tomatoes and against the edged spiciness of animal smells, it used to smell delicious. I think ive lived long enough to bury it underneath the snot of my tears though.
Finding them wasn't different just because they stood out. All that pissing in their pants were happenings I could see when a father would try to blockade himself before his wife and child-it didn't matter if they could hold a candle to me one day, they all cowered in their wrathful compassion and suffering
I didn't cut them any differently either. I don't always have room in my body to force them down my throat, so if I'd have thrown up already I'd leave the one next or after that as a landmark
Usually that meant I'd have gotten the most out of that place, and it seems like I'd have gotten it here, in the sense that they had chosen to cry in a desolate area this time
I heard them speak for the first time; I heard something talk in forever.
I laughed, but I didn't do anything past that. The joy is knowing it didn't matter if you were the making of your own circle or not; but they can't stand their own against me anyway, they weren't ever going to leave in a way that mattered.
They were born for me, that's what they'll have to grapple with in their next life.
I don't think they understood it any better though, even when they ceased entirely.
I didn't stop either, even when I didn't get to them that day I did another time-but that truly established themselves under animal and I was livid in my imagery I began to hear more, I began to feel more and it hurt and hurt.
Could you imagine what the conscience would have been been if they did reflect upon me with my own blade? I meditate on it all the time when I swung, thinking about the devil who'd made an example of me and id cry clutching my vitals
See, it's okay if they were disgusting, id begin to desire what was truly out of reach for me I had to believe I was the furthest away I could be
I refused to reach my quota that night despite my shaking, and I awaited a terrible drought
To my horrored joy, they made themselves in and I made a friend
But it was another pointless ruse with them, always worthless I seeI converted them to my way, my fecal path and holding their knuckles, I guided their cleavage down the animal
They sobbed the first time, and once again my cleaver became a mimicry in their hands but they sought for what wasn't immortal and I was in glee eating them after they'd keep trying though, that will forcing something that wouldn't come to fruition if they would just realize the nothingness that was nothing, that was impermanence and the act of detachment
I grew mad for the first time, it was many firsts with them, they had that going for them but that didn't mean i vied for it. Do you still not get it? I'd keep with them though.
They did learn to cut eventually, and we'd huddle in fear of our two-faced ghosts together on some nights. We'd fall into our special place against the waters and try to cry louder than the space around us to drown it out. I did relish those, I really did.
In consciousness of their cold flesh on mine, I felt the most alone id ever had and I could tell they were too
They ate beside me, and with the feeding on animal being louder than before knew what they were. They sent me to my next life for once and I leered.
I had arrived back to our permanent home and was met with a familiar hinderence. It was curious.
After all of that they had the organs for lip service. Unsure of where this unbecoming rose from, I did consume them
But it didn't end there, as if me being reincarnated once was somehow a happening of the buddha himself, they preached the importance of their life as a manifestation of my own and yearned again
Did karma ever wish upon itself? I was beyond euphoric in the waste of it all. I got rid of them the one way I knew how, and then i began to see their faces in the animals.
Was it different? No, don't even argue for that when both the circumstances of them and the outcome resulted in null.
After, I had done as I do the plains were green and I continue as is, as stagnant as ever away from the dharmic wheel, I lived in the dukkha and all ceased in continuation under the cycle of swings when I saw three of their faces in the dark
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