Work Text:
Eaten, rotten, consumed, decayed, swallowed, choked.
Our souls are bound as one; amalgamate bodies and coalesce minds.
This is your fear.
Confess your sins.
I’ve created a monster. One of neglect and abuse, of malnourishment and greed, of mistrust and abandonment. I brought life onto this earth, grew fearful of its capability, and abandoned it without a second thought. I see its reflection in passing cars, in flashing lights, and in strangers' faces. I’ve created a bogeyman; a creature that haunts every nightmare I’ve ever had.
God, who am I to lie so shamelessly? Who is truly the monster? The naive child who has not once known love yet fools himself into believing he could reciprocate it in his every waking moment? The innocent child who yearns for a warmth unknown to his inept feelings unaware that he was born freezing? Or the man who made him that way?
I look at him and I see the blood first; not him. I see the fear that stitches our ribs, hollows our insides, and clogs our lungs. I look at him, really look at him, and it’s a face I can no longer recognize. I do not know him. I do not know it.
Your god is no stronger than your guilt, and your savior falls silent in grief.
You’ve bridged beyond redemption; the being grows within you, knowing no repentance.
This is your hunger.
Confess your sins.
I’ve been placed under the microscope, in the spotlight, captured for close inspection. The memory of him is a scalpel, cutting through my flesh like a poorly handled science experiment and revealing my guilty insides- bloody and misarranged.
I’ve shown him no love. I’m a broken knife, dull and erratic. I can’t seem to ever cut along the lines. And I want him. I want him like meat. Cut into his flesh and tear him apart. Bloody, red, raw. I’ve shown him slaughter.
I’m not stupid. I know it hurts him. I’m a broken knife. I cut blindly. I’ve ripped him apart, wrenching his bones from his body and peeling apart his skin. I’m not stupid. Yet I pretend I am.
Every pill I swallow in an attempt to forget is another worm crawling through my intestines. There’s a colony residing in my gut like an ineradicable disease, wrapping their bodies around my colon and draining, eating away at my gut; a cannibal with undying rue.
I’ll be completely hollow of you soon.
Remorse is but a fleeting sorrow.
Do not let your misery cloud your judgement.
This is your resent.
Confess your sins.
I’m a broken compass; I keep straying towards you, only pointing west. I’m a punch to the gut; the kind that knocks the wind out of your body, chokes your voice in your throat. I’m the cold and uncomfortable sensation crawling beneath your skin, the crooked tree whose roots dig into the foundation of your home, the hand puppet that won’t say the words you mouth to me. I’m the tightening of your throat and the swirling silver stars you see beneath your eyelids. I’m a blackhole; the chaos of collapsed gravity, the death of a star; a supernova and an explosion turned nuclear.
You’re the stars; an unexplored galaxy that will forever stay just beyond my reach. You’re the nervousness in my voice and the face I pray for when I close my eyes. You’re the warmth of my winter, the poppy growing in my pavement, and the well programmed robot that follows every twisted command I enter. You’re the poison on my tongue and the sickness I refuse to treat. You’re the stinging sensation that clings to my chest, throbbing and burning, like an untreated injury. You’re the virus crawling within my veins, entering my heart through the wounds you leave on my body.
I’m an open wound and you're rubbing alcohol, poured all over me. You want nothing more to do with me, yet all I can do is beg to drown.
The grandfather clock in your peripheral is no passing hallucination.
Release will be granted to those deserving… are you?
This is your truth.
Confess your sins.
...Ike? …Is it you?
I’m sorry. I acted selfishly, having known since our earliest moments that you were nothing more than an illusion I had fabricated for my own pleasure; a fantasy I could never touch, much less hold on to. Only in my quietest dreams, in the darkness of our bedroom, to the lull of your slumber, did I dare cling to you as something of my own. There has never been a single moment when I did not want you; when I did not lust for your scent and crave your warmth. You are the soul object of my desires, my great unfinished symphony, and my proudest creation. Tried and true, I have always needed you.
I’m sorry. My fear stands taller than worship, and when that illusion faded, I tossed you aside, horrified by the Frankenstein that I no longer recognized. In you I found joy, yet only saw your anger; in you I found love, yet only saw your heartbreak; In you I found mercy, yet only saw your cruelty.
In you I found humanity, yet before me stands a monster.
And when I look at you, all I can feel is an uncomfortable pain shifting back and forth in my chest- a tectonic plate of yearning sliding into place. Pretty soon, the pressure will become too much, releasing seismic waves that shake my very being, making spontaneous human combustion a reality. My sternum is the match that strikes my soul, causing my heart tissue to burn until it’s nothing but a pile of ash and shame.
Please. I’m tired and you’re all I want. You still cross my mind. And I still miss you.
Let me rest.
Vox.
Close your eyes and enjoy the release.
No more sleeping pills, no more empty plates, no more silent conversations.
Rest well my love, you deserve it.
May god be with you.