the FIRST of NOVEMBER, TWO THOUSAND and TWENTY.

i want to be hung up and butchered like a sacrificial lamb. i can imagine my flesh splitting so easily,
like butter, revealing the black and grey goop inside!! woah. it just goes everywhere. splash.
i think my insides would be disgusting. i feel sick, i can feel it all inside me. eugh. i want to drain it all out.
my mind always tells me i die captive in a dark basement, alone on a cold table, laid out like some sort of perverted feast.
i wonder who they sacrifice me to. probably to nothing; sacrificed to the cause of fucking nothingness. fitting.

take me back!