Well my animal is getting out of my hands.
I have tried to trick him for a certain period of time, a saint like meditation at his threshold point.
But he wants flesh now.
Every ounce of sweet tender flesh is his new gateway, his legacy to the remaining world.
On cold, immovable nights he unleashes himself on me.
A morbid cry in my ears, a crowning pain under my belly, and a cruel dissatisfaction in my chest.
Then I do what I have done all these years.
An act of raging torture on myself to attain a higher perception of those who lives with nothing but flesh in their body.
Perhaps there’s no feelings, no conquering emotions in this world which is not twisted with a little bit of taste in blood and veins.
But where are those childish gratifications with a simple touch or with just a flicker of a smile.
Gone, long gone. Somewhere obscure. Time by time bending the backbone of my shape.
I think my animal will thump me soon with its never quivering hunger.
Just one thing, don’t judge me or the fool animal of my existence.
Cause you all know this world was meant to be run by animals not some pity looking creatures with unending emotions into their guts.