R

the part of the feast that bites back, is what I am.

In the slaughterhouse of hunger, I am uneaten—

hard, blunt, a barricade of bone

in a world of want and waste.

They’ll eat everything else, tear sinew from bone,

savor the blood-rich muscle, the salt-slicked skin.

But me? I’m too jagged to swallow,

too bitter to carve.

I am the orphaned edge, the grit they spit out,

the piece they can’t make soft.

In the gluttony of flesh, where bodies become bodies,

and meat becomes memory,

I am what remains—

resisting the swallow, daring the knife,

still sharp and knowing, still something of self.

Maybe that’s why they leave me—

no flavor worth the fight,

no succulence to justify the choke.

I am pig’s teeth, where the hunger dies,

where the eater meets the eaten and recoils.

So let them dine on marrow, belly, and flesh,

let them hunger until there’s nothing left.

I’ll be here, in the bones of the mouth,

last line, last laugh, the part that survives—

sharp as truth, stubborn as hunger unmet,

pig’s teeth—unyielding, unswallowed,

Obsession with the way your chest feels heavy when you can’t quite breathe right,

with that one face, that one name,

scratching at the walls of your mind

until it spills out in ink, in brush strokes, in graffiti on the bathroom stall.

Art is obsession,

with needing the world to hear you,

obsession with the hope that they really hear you,

to shove your anger down its throat,

to let it know this is what I stand for,

what I hate.

And I hate it,

art.

I hate its arrogance, how it demands to be felt,

how it worms its way under your skin,

makes you bleed for it,

like it’s some fucking sacred thing

when really, it’s just a mirror,

one of the double sided kind, with someone that spies you on the other end.

I hate how it pretends to be beauty

but it’s just greed in disguise,

the greed to be anything other than invisible.

But that’s the trick, right?

The paradox.

The thrill hidden in the feeling of despising its very existence.

Because isn’t that the most raw form of obsession?

Tonight I had this dream, it's so vivid in my head.

There was a woman cooking in a huge pot, smiling children ran over to her, calling her name. She had really short hair, and from behind, you couldn’t see her face. She turned slightly to smile at the children, her face was horribly scarred, though I only caught a glimpse for a second.

Then the scene shifted. There was a scruffy-looking boy, maybe around 10 years old. He was overweight, with greasy long hair, square glasses, and dirty, sweaty clothes. Despite his appearance, he formed a close friendship with a neat, well-kept girl with a bob haircut and bangs. The girl felt sorry for him and tried to help him clean up, though his appearance never changed throughout the dream. For some reason, the boy insisted that their friendship had to be kept secret, even from other kids. He told her that something bad would happen to both of them if anyone found out, and she nodded in agreement.

It then became clear that the girl was an orphan, adopted by a cruel old woman who lived alone with her unemployed son. The woman exploited her small hands for sewing and often locked her in a dark closet or refused to feed her. The girl frequently ran away to an abandoned warehouse, where she met the boy. Despite his mildly creepy appearance, the boy was always affectionate toward her, giving her gentle kisses on the forehead and holding her hand whenever she needed comfort.

One day, news broke out about children disappearing, leading to a curfew. But the girl still sneaked out at night to see the boy. In a whisper, she asked him, "Did you do it?" He didn’t answer. "Do you know where they are? You love everyone so much, you’d want to keep them with you forever,I can understand it. " she said. The boy became furious, suddenly letting out a horrifying scream, and ran away.

After that, the girl grew more fearful and barely left the house. However, one day the old woman demanded she make a delivery, threatening not to let her back inside until she completed the task. As the girl walked, she encountered the boy. Terrified, she started to run, but he was much faster, like he had longer legs. She barely made it back to the house and screamed for the old woman to let her in, begging and saying she was scared. The old woman dismissed her, claiming she was only saying that because she didn’t want to make the delivery.

Seeing the boy getting closer, the girl chose to keep running. She came across two other children and shouted for them to play hide-and-seek with her to save them. They all ended up in the abandoned warehouse where she used to meet the boy. The three of them hid in a small, closed-off area, but eventually, the boy found his way in. The two other children didn’t escape, though the dream didn’t show what happened to them.

The girl kept running but soon found herself trapped in a dead-end alley. The boy appeared in front of her, holding a broken iron pipe. He SAd her and then hit her face with the iron pipe repeatedly. When he finished, he picked up a big shard of glass from the ground and began stabbing himself. With each strike, he grew older and older, transforming into an adult. His appearance was the same, just bigger. I guess it fit better this way. I think he had never been an innocent child, but the little girl had always seen him as one so I did too.

I don't recall every single detail, it was much more impactful while I was dreaming, I ended up waking up with a huge headache.