neckbeardhell
some dude's writing blog
except he rarely uses it unless he's not feeling emotionally great so uuuhhh
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Random Stuff
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Mastication of flesh
Encased in bloodied hands is a heart
Gristle and offal are spat out
Teeth sink in again
Bestial tearing of the organ
Bloodied hands clutching while his head jerks back
The cadaver lies not too far from the scene
He chews carefully and rejects what’s inedible once more
This innate need has been with him since birth
Dismember the dead and consume as you may
It’s ghoulish and ghastly, absurd and awful
But he was already castigated anyway
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Puberty is a turbulent time for kids. Their own bodies become foreign-- the very vessels they’re carried in start to change. How they perceive and are perceived start to change. Change. The only constant in life.
Two rosy abscesses had formed on their back, threatening to rupture at any possible moment. Pain at the base of their spine, intense migraines.
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I know what you’re thinking. I wear the uniform, bear the badge, carry the club... I’m a monster. I’m more real than the beast you desperately checked under your bed for when you were five-- more up-to-date. Granted, I’ve tried so many times to break away from all of this. But old habits die hard, y’know.
I just wish I could pull the metaphorical plug on all of this. I’ve lived the same fucked up shit for much longer than I’d consider myself comfortable with.
As it turns out, it’s hard to die when you’ve been tested on extensively. While I do reprise my role on an official level, I feel I have no other choice to uphold order.
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rotting rottin g rot festering fucking FESTERING F E S T E R I N G IN MY OWN SHELL FULL OF FLIES AND THEIR PROGENY THE MAGGots
heartstarter caretaker despITE THE FACT YOU CANT EVEN TAK E CARE OF YOUR GODDAMN SELF AND BECAUSE OF THAt yoU ARE warped warped warped r i b s s sssssssssssssssssssssssssss ddg gdsjo q qq g oooo o o o o [ 0-2 3 h
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The flowery sweet scent still clung to the thin linen fabric. It’s very loose on his remarkably-tinier-in-comparison frame. He doesn’t mind at all. Now was a good time to feel small.
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He peels back the vinyl glove and rolls his sleeve up, revealing scar tissue upon his ghastly wrist. “There’s a lot more of that in places you don’t wanna see, buddy. I took the way out on my own. I had a choice-- you didn’t. Dad didn’t either.”
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A cold, almost clammy, but reassuring touch. A squeeze of the hand. Even as the tears leave your eyes, he promises that things will get better, that help is available... Every applicable affirmation under the sun. Things can be difficult. It can seem like eons before the storm starts to clear. After the storm comes the rainbow.
Just take the time to heal and know that there’s ups and downs.
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drinking from lead chalice
snuffed out
reignited
scarred
running from past mistakes
use the gift for good
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Sensible and clean. Sensible and clean. Sensible and clean.
For once in his life, he was presentable. No crusty blood on his face nor bangs gathered in the center of his face. No tattered skinny jeans nor dirty boots.
At the same time, it was obvious that he’s out of his element. What confidence he built up being himself just wasn’t there. He was more awkward, unsure... Constantly fumbling over his words. In a sense, his imposing factor was flat-out missing.
After all, there’s nothing scary about a short young man in a suit.
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I know things. That’s just what I do. It’s hard not to know things when you’re occupying energy to survive. It doesn’t make sense, but that’s just how I exist, clinging to shadows and neuron paths and shit.
And I’m sorry all that kinda shit happened to you, kid. You’re still standing tough though. That’s good. You’re here with us in the present. A real fucking trooper.
You don’t have to keep all that inside. Trust me, I know people, and they’re on better terms with everything after acknowledging and talking about it. Be as vague or clear-cut as you want. I’m not asking for a confession, just confirmation. It takes years for people to want to discuss this kinda thing.
And quit it with the “I’m not people” mindset. I understand. It’s inferiority and an identity crisis wrapped into one package. You’re a miracle and a man and you’re beyond mortal comprehension. Don’t worry too much about it. Or what others think.
We’ll get through this together.
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Don’t you fucking touch me.
Don’t even fucking LOOK at me.
It was so cold out there and I needed shelter and you fucking R U I N E D me.
Cruel laughter, holding me in place and commanding me to watch.
Torn and displaced and wondering why it was me of all people.
I was VIOLATED and DEFLOWERED and DECIMATED because you mourned a little girl who was never there to begin with.
Bloody nightgown, wet thighs, gutted spirit.
I don’t want to remember.
I thought I could trust you.
I couldn’t.
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Is this recording?
Now... Where do I begin? My initials are L.J.B. I’ve been involved with the church for years now. I was... Recruited, more or less. I was 29 at the time. Barely scraping by. I was with the wrong crowd at the time. Crime to stay alive. To provide for my daughter.
I was coming home, and one of them approached me. Gustavo, I believe. It was likely Gustavo. He knew everything that I was going through. He didn’t just look into my eyes; he saw through me, down into my core. The church would help me and little Abigail.
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growing up is having a pouch of kool-aid to get the taste of coffee beans out of your mouth
growing up is establishing self-morals and realizing they’re different from that of others
growing up is finding yourself but still feeling hollow
growing up is scary
growing up is confusing
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i’m a useless son
leaving it all to the final hour
can’t care for myself
can’t care about myself
i used to be so good at memorizing things
but it’s all gone downhill
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judge me by the flesh
but the flesh is of no use
i never got the chance to be in the boy scouts
and i dont know how to tie a noose
judge me by the flesh
but the flesh is of no use
i have no money
so i cant afford to involve myself in drug abuse
i feel far past worthless but that’s alright
i know im not supposed to win this fight
hard for me to fall asleep at night
cuz i got too many fuckin problems
rattling up inside my head
my teeth arent how they should look
hell, my face aint how it should look
nor is any other aspect of my body
judge me by the flesh
but the flesh is of no use
i never got the chance to be in the boy scouts
and i dont know how to tie a noose
judge me by the flesh
but the flesh is of no use
i have no money
so i cant afford to involve myself in drug abuse
#oh hey i actually pumped something the fuck out today but it was bc i was h#aving the severe dysphoria(tm)
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roses cant cover up the stench of putrefaction
gloves cant hide the decay of the hands beneath forever
optic enhancements cant make you see everything
archaic ways of speaking cant make anyone be more interested
why do you still have all these old cds?
what about these old worn-out denim vests?
youre old and worn out just like em
but you still insist on trying to live in a realm that youve lost all touch with
that is perfectly fine
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Another ransacked town was left behind. Barrels broken, cadavers ready to putrefy on the dusty ground, shattered glass from windows littering the few streets. The offenders were retreating at a snail’s pace, and one among the plentiful few kept their head down. What the fuck had they just done?
They distinctly remember it all no matter how bad they actually want to suppress it. Their bright amber eyes had met with the fear-filled baby blues of an older man. He wasn’t entirely defenseless, or at least he looked like he could still throw a punch or two. They had broken in to a seedy little bar that had yet to open up for the day while the others were causing utter havoc. Of course, it was a sort of shoot first and ask questions later sort of moment, but the old man didn’t actually do anything wrong.
“There’s blood on your hands now, kid,” one of their, er, ‘compadres’ spoke. “It’ll only get worse with time.”
No response.
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