people pulling game overs on screen. In what fucked up mind is that funny, ever?

Yes, he survived. Yes, I had to put antibiotic ointment on it daily as it healed. Yes, it was intense, and yes. I still did it because he was completely in a livable and survivable state though temporarily had to stay in a smaller cage as I was completely ditched in the middle of the night

And Yooouu, you, insatiable you

vibrant core, growing encased in an indestructible barrier. Caged by the hatred of those that dare call themselves human, or more than.

My soul is auto-cannibalistic by nature. I embed pieces of myself in others as they do for me, but recently I've noticed the pieces have begun to fester and rot, the sudden denial of never having known someone pierce their way deeper until your heart is always pressed against the tips of the once

Reflection is not a word in this weaving mindscape, reflection and contemplation are merely words most use to excuse away their actions, as if they really, truly believe they are correct. As if it's impossible for their data to be poisoned. As if numbers have to mean something always in statistics.

But in the end of it all, what is a monster if not someone you personally dislike? What is a monster, if not something intentionally created to be misunderstood, created to make you say, "Maybe I shouldn't judge so easily. Maybe I need to question my own morals." And they never do.

were never really in danger. The simple "What is...?" "How does...?" and more become tainted sentences, cursed as if an ancient primordial entity unravels you atom by atom. The more you endure, the more you learn, the harsher the punishment. Severed from humanity and pushed into the term, "Monster".

That's the plot of notre dame