There's a point in my life that I decide that living just isn't worthwhile. To be honest it's rather sad but just thinking about what I have to do to care for him is vile. I feel the bile in my stomach churning.
This thing, it was not a deer. The greatest fear I have of the not deer, keeping me hostage for it's own sick desires. The fires of hell will consume me entirely. If only I had a way to flee from this flea trap of a monster.
I believe I may be going insane. My thoughts are inane, seemingly like they're not my own. Thoughts being telegraphed to me so that my alleged future to be shown to me. It's rather grim and defeating. The mixed emotions of dealing with this shapeshifting monster. Hope is rather fleeting, especially in these conditions.
The not deer commands me and I have to obey. I take care of it's spawn every single fucking god damn day. Eating the remains of humans brought back by monster during it's hunts. The wretched children consuming my own species like the flesh was cooked by Bobby Flay.
I've lost track of time being here for so long, caring for it's vile children. Watching as they grow, getting hungrier and hungrier for more human flesh. It's been hell on me, all this time. All these months. I suppose the people killed by the monster for it's younglings feasts were luckier than me.
I tried to escape, I really have. Multiple times in fact. But the monster, it can track me with such elegant ease. Every time it recaptures me, it bellows out in ecstatic glee. Every time I flee. Every fucking time. It's a task that I believe it gets enjoyment out of. Some sick and twisted fucking thing. I believe my only real escape would be to hang myself. I have no rope. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
I'm out of luck, or that I rather have very bad luck. I'm not sure if I'm better off alive or dead. Hell am I even alive at this point? This joint in my life where I'm taking care of the young of a fucking monster from the depths of hell itself? This fucking not deer thing. I was simply trucking along with my haul and got stopped by a police officer and suddenly the cop is killed and brought back with me knocked unconscious. While still out of it, the monster would sling me onto a bed straw and bed bugs.
There's no way for this to stop. I don't recall how many times. I've even went as far as to try feeding myself in a horrific death to eating by the monster's children, but not even my blood or chopped off part of my big toe would get eaten by these things. I think they realize I'm their caretaker, the giver of their breath. It's difficult to see that I simply cannot die. I know, oh woe is me.
Yeah you think I should be fucking happy that I'm still alive. If I manage to escape I'm going to be really, really careful about being around wooded areas in the future for sure. The one thing I miss, having nothing to eat but the scraps of human remains, the leftovers. I don't think I can eat meat ever again because the taste is so pure.
I'm not sure what to think. Maybe I'm psychotic, but I need a drink, but the only fucking thing here to quench my thirst is human blood. While I consume human flesh and blood, I'm realizing that I'm enjoying it more and more. The pit of my stomach is so sore when I eat anything else. I'm so hungry. I crave it now. Don't blink or I may eat you too.
What am I becoming? Am I truly psychotic? This chaotic world simply does not make any sense. The suspense of when I'll have my next meal with the babies with the monster. I'm beginning to not want to leave. The monster now flaunts choice human meat my way. I believe to this day now, that I am not longer human. A fresh human, still alive but unconscious, so tender. So ... So fucking lovely and juicy. I bet his meat is marbled to perfection. I could clear off some choice meat. I'm so very fucking hungry. And I'm so fucking angry.
[All images used are created by me. I retain full copyright however you are free to use any of my digital artwork for free for personal and business use so long as attribution is provided with a link back to the original page you got the image from.]
I wonder if you'd consider tweaking this into an actual short story. I think all the elements are there
I wouldn't mind doing so.
It's obvious that I'm not the poet of this work, but every line hits and cuts deep, it feels like everything I feel right now is being translated in this poem.
Glad you were able to enjoy the poetic prose. Thank you for the review.
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Thanks for the tip matey! o/
Ah, the horror, it's beautiful. Not everyday I come across poetic prose so this is a real treat to read! And well done, too. The character arc was predictable, but in a good way, the way expected from body horror. It was as it should have been and that's what made it immersive. The rhyming kept the flow and pacing going steady and it sounded like the character was long gone with madness, which amplifies the voice. Love it.
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I'm glad you enjoyed and thank you so much for the feedback! :)
Disturbed emotional train ride. Strap your seat belts on.
Glad you enjoyed yourself.
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