I wanted it to be quiet. I just wanted it to be fucking quiet but it wouldn't stop. The slithering, crawling thing deep down...way down in the darker regions of my blackened soul. I began just that night when my lips were tainted in rose delights and my heart pounded so hard in my own ears, blurring my vision and sending my thoughts into chaos. I hate the thought that I could be so corrupted so simply but now I know. Now I know how weak I truly am inside...and out.
The blood spoke and cried, weeping Christian prayers before my crucifixion. And when my palms bled...I realized no stigmata dream would ever penetrate me. No...it was my own nails digging hard into my own flesh...
The thing cried hard to push up and through, prying my teeth apart, it's claws scratching at the back of my throat. My voice was hoarse as I cried, begging for it to end but it knew no mercy. And I wanted none. Pain so exquisite it ran in rivulets down my ribs, the wounds so deep and meaty with hunger seeping from every broken vein. Ahh...so good...so good to feel so...eaten...alive...
Carry what little there is left of my sanity to the river to drown in peace.
The winds suck innocently through my lips as I taste my favorite cigarette. It cannot be described in words but only orgasms...what it feels to turn...
My God if only you could know. But I am greedy in my horrors. I won't share this pain, this transformation. I crawled on hands and knees to suckle the lips of demons to harness their elixirs...and the muscles curling down my spine - they grow! - and pop and crack sickening snaps to make room for what wants so desperately to push through. And my fingers will not wave but twist and ache, not hands anymore but claws! Are you dead yet? I thought it should ask but it didn't care as much as I. No. I wanted to experience it all before it stole my breath away.
Fur....slick with my blood and entrails creeping out from each delicious laceration, ripened red from such a clean cut, each of them rosy and hot with passion.
It is over. I am gone. All that is left are bits and pieces of my drunken epitaph. No facade anymore. Only memories under the moonlight...