The bear loved the dear, it was obvious. It ripped the deer's throat out, and then licked the dying deer with the most passionate affection.
I thought of you and me.
━━ Consumed, David Cronenberg.
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Turn on the tap and let the cold water coat your hands, carrying the blood away with it as it disappears into a harmless whirlpool. Cleanse yourself of your sins. The world can't know that you're tainted. No matter how much you scrub your hands, the dermis tearing apart from your force, you can never remove the scarlet sins from your hands. What will they think? What will they do? Lock you up in a metal cage and trap your screams with a muzzle. You are dangerous. You are unstable. You are hungry. Wash and rinse.
Wring your hands, twist the joints with enough force to rip them off. Live with the pain. Feel the pain that you inflicted. You are a sinner. You killed the baby that you used to be, the one with saint lips and innocent eyes. Childhood felt like a gentle kiss on the forehead, your mind too young to realize the horror you were surrounded with. The bones of your past had crumbled, crushed by the weight of your divine mania. Wash and rinse.
You come with warning signs ringing around you like church bells like a storm is approaching. However, the thing about the storm that washes over the lands is that it always leaves a trail of destruction behind it. Just like you unleash your anger on the world, so does the storm. Just like you leave a trail behind you that leads to a bloodbath, so does the storm. The only problem is that the storm didn't have control over its tides but you did. You had control over yourself but you still decided to submit to the clutches of rage. Where it latches its jaw to your throat and embeds its teeth deep into your flesh. You are evil. You are unstable. You are terror. You are filth, Irene Song.
