Beast and Sheep

Before you plunge into reading this you should be warned it is raw, emotional and could trigger some. There you have been duly warned…

God are you fucking kidding me, it is total bullshit feeling like this. Fucking piece of shit society tells me what rages in my mind and blood is wrong. Genetics, evolution, whatever the fuck it is; the real question is why is it? Sure I can fit in, play chameleon or try to cut out the most powerful part of me. Blending only works so well for so long. Always that itch, the scratching in the back of my head. Fucking hell it’s like trying to run from death, being a part of the wolf pack being haunted by what is my nature. You either get it or you don’t.

Lick the blade and feel that sharp edge craving a taste of blood. Clip it to the hip and walk out into the world. Prey everywhere, flesh flashing like a never-ending parade all but begging to be hunted. The beast kicking the cage as tits and ass flash. That scent of the bitches in heat like a drug fires up the carnal carnival need. Screaming inside while calm and cool outside, the mind racing, resolve bracing against the beast that slams against the door over and over again. Now I scream inside, not for a lack of want but for a need to be hidden in the mass of sheep. A blood thirst wolf can only be kept starved for so long before it rips the throat from its prey. Feeding as the flock looks on in horror.

Monster they scream, beast that should be locked away or destroyed. FUCK YOU! Deny what you are inside, a land of mentally castrated predators. Ignore that itch, turn away as you feel the twitch. COWARD! PUSSY! FUCKING BALLLESS SHEEP! I tried, the gods know I’ve tried. Repression, ignoring, hiding it deep inside behind a mask of the socially acceptable smile. Hell cannot be walled up, fate will prevail and roll over the land in a wave. A metropolis of blood washed streets filled with screams. Flesh is a fleeting thing, mere food for the worms that wait with hungry maws craving more and more. Death is such a hollow thing, it is the fear, agony and pain that give true flavor to life. Being a master of them, to bring each in full furry is a god power. Oh the desire to walk as a god amongst the mass of fearful sheep. To devour what is there to take. It is not simple to maintain the level, to hold the power, It is pure force of will and the ability to command it. No more anxiety holding back for the so called social norms.

For thousands of years life has been a primal struggle. Fang, flesh and blood splattering the world in a crimson paint that is far more pure than this anemic pathetic existence. An existence that is now held in some desperate need to seem normal, slave to the system we created. Slave to a piece of paper that is giving an arbitrary value. For that people are made into a cogs to work the vast machine of socially acceptable work. Once broken  they are tossed aside and forgotten. Life is nothing more than a farce now. Mental health is from the lack of struggle and pain. WAKE UP! Madness you say? I dare you to sit in a wall of isolated “normalcy” existing to only repeat the same task the next day. Safe with no struggle, just day after day in that routine. That is madness.

Sickness has crept in and infected this society. Safety to the point we have shattered our purpose. Freedom and adventure traded for security. Anarchy whispered like a bad word, no sheep, it is the purest form of reality. Safety and control are an illusion you pathetic Eloi. The dark scares you because you have lost your purpose. The darkness is home and a place of serenity for me. Only when the animal side is loose do I truly feel alive. No regret, no apologies for doing what is natural.

The only way to stop this is to stop the beating of this feral heart. Dare you to try, come and see if you can. Feel the rush, touch the edge of godhood, if you have the fortitude. Once a taste had touch the lips it becomes a craving, the beast is awakened.

Crazy? Hardly, just an awakening to the reality of the primal nature. The flesh is there for the thrill of the hunt. The hunt fuel for the beast that needs to feed.

Into Me See

Craven desire, wanton beast, animals that claim to be on a higher level. In the end it is nothing but flesh and blood that sinks into the void of macabre.

This isn’t sexy or anything like that, just a view into my mind and how I think some days.

In the realm between sanity and calamity there is a place where the people gather in mass. Huddled together as they watch on in disbelief at the world around them. Hope, fear, terror and joy all blended into a mass of swirling words and colors. Horrors beyond most individuals ability to comprehend is whispered, a land of darkness so sinister. Kittens soft and fluffy playing with bounding puppies now takes away the torrent of dismay. Fallow minds drift in and out of original thought as they are fed swill just for a moment of thrill. This place is the internet, inter-web, or whatever it is called in their confines of home.

A war broken into a flash of images and sounds, rockets fly and bodies lay on the ground. A royal marriage paraded around, the glamor and fashion for all to sigh and praise. On the surface it is so serine yet darker levels lurks underneath. Horrors that dared not be spoken aloud in public company, deviance that makes the most publicly perverse look pure. The glass shards of broken humanity choke down the bits that float into the light. Openly appalled but in secret drawn like a moth to a flame those horrors would fade if they weren’t in high demand.

Foul filth or hidden treasure, it is for each to decide. What is appealing to one makes another sick inside. Ghastly images of wars from ages past shock the onlooker as they hide the secret desire to know what happened to that missing hooker. Craven desire, wanton beast, animals that claim to be on a higher level. In the end it is nothing but flesh and blood that sinks into the void of macabre. Screams make lusts run hot as openly it is condemned. Would there be such a high number of hits if the masses were not drawn to it? Images of death and a live feed as a throat is slit.

The heart of man is a dark hole swallowing all that it can ingest. I dare not try to pretend to be above such craven desires myself. I fall prey to darker lusts and desires. Images that make others blush just serve to inspire my twisted mind. Questions of my sanity abound from those who look on. Dare if you will to take a look inside, can you feel the struggle and desire? At some point there is an edge, a ledge to stand over and look. Take the leap and hope to not dash on the rocks below or stand forever in the evening glow. They say if you stare into the void long enough you can feel it staring back at you, this I know all too well to be true.

The real question comes as I am asked what I want. The answer is often a confusing jumble of ideas and none linked to a single thing. Material things are but tokens of this life I find fleeting, only the feeling of the giver is what is felt when I don or admire a gift. Have I become listless or has my taste come to a point it is beyond even my understanding? Only time will tell what comes of this and where it leads. The rabbit hole is deep and I have fallen far, but the bottom is still beyond my grasp as I still tumble…