𝖛𝖎𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊

Violence is like a ghoul in a bubbling at the bottom of our hearts. It is a lurid beast that crawls up,
hot skinned and hungry, and take over our bones to take its revenge on God
Violence is like a lover who reek of spit, the scent of genital smut,
hot tar burning in the lungs, bleach in the throat,
it is a sheer black that drowns out colors. Violence is power, a possession of desire,
Violence is fentanyl: it is the devil, crossing the empty desert, given to you for as cheap as a chiclet,
to swallow you in a hell of the highest pleasure. No bodily pain, you are free of your own bones, your own organs.
Your mind revels in an inferno of soft nightmares,
dragging your spirit into the ghoul’s arms, the taste of hate like honey.