[TW: Mention of abuse, mention of body parts, slight gore, blood, act of degeneration, depravity too maybe, unhealthy mindset, codependency]
(This is written out of spite. Doesn't even make sense. Unedited. Lots of grammar errors)
"I have seen a lot more than my own mind could indulge. I’ve become my own warden, slowly but surely, suffocating the desire and curiosity that generously succumbs my own sanity to its edge. I have used everything that’s a part of me for something to use to observe. I have no one but my own to use as a lab rat. On a whim, I’ve overused myself to understand something that’s not within my reach.
Those delicate hands of theirs; how could such fragile things work their way to grope and consume into the flesh of oneself, indulging their existence, merging as one while remaining as separate individuals? Such fickle touch, people proclaimed it to be something granted, something divine, something out of the world and only meant for those above. The very same touch that has the ability to strangle you. To stick their finger into your throat, twist it, pull out your vocal cord, and take your speech ability away. Is this what people yearn for?
I have heard a lot. From the chattering beauty of people chanting one another’s beauty and their warmest greet of formality, to the guttural noises of gurgling and nasty screech of agony. I remain deaf about them. I suppose I am deaf unless it was a noise I longed to retrieve and steal as my own so I could finally portray why my voice was waning out of my memory.
My eyes are easily deceived. They believe everything they have and will always do. So then grab me by my ankles. Pull me down to the ground and shove the hazardous chemical into my throat like you always do. Cover my eyes and show me what you truly mean. Guide me like a fool I am. Blind me and put me in the dark—leave me be then put me on a leash. Guide me out of the place then whisper your name into my wounds, tell me how to speak, what to voice. For my mind knows what these are all about, it could never be deceived, it never will. I am aware of it all. Aware of you. Aware of my own demise. One thing I truly pity is my own incapability of stopping such things from happening—so then bury me. Keep me grounded. Put me up in those pretty glass displays, dress me up like a doll I was meant to be for you. Use your hands to glaze over my intricate details, drawing each sign of your existence into my DNA.
Show me the empathy you deem to own. Show me that devotion you've been enchanting since day zero. Push me into your flesh, let me enter your every being, hold me as if I'm the only one copy amongst your other play dolls. Your hands are flesh meant to be touched and picked, one that holds everything with such gentleness and adoration. You picked up a rose, put it behind your ear and let it bleed through with a smile painted on your face as you stare absently at me. Your eloquence paints a vivid imagery that you would ascend my being to finally experience how it truly feels to be connected, to be one. How could you deceive my naive eyes? Thinking my bones would be an object of admiration in your very touch. Only for me to receive such brutality coursing through my entire body. But why would I complain? Why should I? When I found myself making no effort to leave but instead accepting whatever this was. Was it desperation? Exhaustion? Or perhaps I was too drunk. I was too drunk to realize the brutality you've shown me held no other but your mere excitement and amusement. And once again I forgot that I am none but a doll, a lab rat. Perhaps I was too drunk into your 'affection'. Perhaps your abuse is an excuse for me to feel something. Perhaps I was too curious about how it feels to be human.
Pt 2: https://www.tumblr.com/roann3/771090361221283840/i-have-seen-things-pt2?source=share
