The Gluttunous King
Living Flesh Devoid of Humanity.
By: Drusilla U.
Possessed by the spirit of indignant restlessness, I wander the night like a hollow ghastly man.
My worn attire sticks to my clothes, sinking into my skin.
Putrid smell — always mine — it dirties the air, a stench that clings to each room I enter, invading what was once pure and untainted.
The king, how he loves to leave an impression.
The mind curates the psyche with larvae, growing, drilling into your thoughts, innocently gnawing away at your autonomy.
The king demands to sleep.
He pounds his palms against his thick head, racking it again and again.
The stinging sensation meant something must be working.
Perhaps… perhaps…
Stupefied, he thrashed around in his bed chambers, he wound up staring at the roof.
For hours.
Who knew such a bleak dark space could have such interesting curves?
Subtle, Strange, Beautiful.
The longer you stare into nothingness, the more there is.
His legs, plump meaty tree stumps, scurried over to the kitchen, carrying his mindless vessel to the kitchen, he hadn’t a single thought in his eaten away brain.
Oh to fill this round carcass up, what a marvelous fantasy.
Plunder the kitchen of goods.
Feast!
A greedy gluttonous pig standing … wobbling on two sausage-like legs, taking more and more, there was no limit, there was only more and more to fill.
No such thing as enough.
His fingers writhed like thick maggots, fleshy little things wriggling with desire and scrutiny. He seized the nearest flesh he found.
Crunch…
Crunch…
Slippery. Slimy. His mind felt it wasn’t right but his body yearned for more.
Unaware of it being raw.
Blood flooded the King’s mouth, soaking his tongue, quenching his thirst for vitality.
His teeth snapped the bones, grinding them up like a war machine. Mechanical routine.
He sucked the bone marrow dry.
Flesh, bone, life --
All consumed by His Highness.
Crunch...
No comments:
Post a Comment