Subconscious Cruelty Page #4

can push a human being...

...in total perversion and insanity.

That face is staring at me

right now. So I bathe it in blood.

I bleed the woman's child-corpse

on top of her face.

Her baby's fluid completely

drenching her features...

...entering her open mouth and

stinging in her eyes.

The blood trails down her throat to

meet her now noiseless screams.

Seeing as her vocal cords

have frozen in paralisis.

She makes an odd choking noise...

...and gurgles up

bubbly-crimson matter.

I continue to dangle the

newborn corpse above her face...

...like some obscene trophy.

Fascinated by the

clammy, rubbery feel...

...of the child's greyish skin.

Of the surprising amount of blood

that can be released...

...from such a small creature.

The umbilical cord dangles

like a dead snake...

...on top of the woman's

blood-soaked breasts...

...and it seems as if the woman

will probably pass out.

Maybe from pain or maybe

from terror. I don't know.

My mind becomes more and

more cloudy now.

I bite the umbilical cord

and shove it back...

...into her still heavily

bleeding vagina.

The end of the flesh-string

slightly peeking out.

It looks like she's grown

a small, bloody penis...

...the thickness of a couple straws.

It makes me laugh, I think.

I calmly place the now

exsanguinated child...

...by its mother's head

on the pillow...

...leaving mother and

child together in death.

The woman as well breathes no longer.

Maybe her heart exploded...

I kind of collapse on the blood-splattered

ground beside the bed...

...and look at the mockery

of human birth I have created.

I smile at how I was right.

What I had done was indeed

the most horrible thing...

...you could do to a human being:

Kill during the process of creation.

I am content.

The child is there for me

to see always.

A reminder of my destiny...

of my evil.

I have built a sort of altar for it

above the kitchen sink.

Wrapped its body in

pretty paper and string.

It smells and attracts

insects... pestilence.

But I find this beautiful

in its own right.

As for my sister... I am with her

every instant of my life.

Taking care of her corpse.

Dressing it, bathing it, sleeping with it.

Only once did I try

to make love to it.

And then, as I slid myself

into her putrefying cleft,

it was so cold and unpleasant.

I realized then that such an act

was never meant to be for me.

I will always be

around death, not life.

It would never work,

no matter who it was.

It would always be dead some day.

Always be dead.

C*nts, how dare you

do this to me.

It's been difficult...

...as it has been in the past, and will

always continue to be in the future.

I don't know how the world

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