I wish I could stop thinking about you at 3:00 a.m. Instead, I can only imagine how you would look in the darkness of my bed, under three layers of blankets and the dimness of moonlight, sneaking through my curtains…
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By: Russ at Outer Limits Tattoo and Body Piercing
MEAT GRINDER Deluxe : I will take your body to the city dump and cook your organs in my big stew pot.
The Beast: You…You came back.
Belle: Of course I came back. I couldn’t let them… Oh this is all my fault. If only I had gotten here sooner.
The Beast: Maybe… Maybe it’s better… it’s better this way.
Belle: Don’t talk like that. You’ll be alright. We’re together now; everything’s going to be fine, you’ll see.
The Beast: And at least…I got to see you - one last time.
(The Beast Dies)
Belle: No, No! Please. Please… Please don’t leave me!
(Belle begins to sob)
Belle: I love you.
(The last rose petal falls…)
I just want you to know that… My hands are delicate as I press sharp pins into this doll. As you continue to abuse my name and shame my face… I push them in a little deeper… and deeper… and deeper… Soon, I know that you will melt like wax… The same wax that drips and descends from my black candles. Do not doubt me… Do not blink your eyes… Because the beast stirs within me. You will suffer — trifold. And I will watch in my magic mirror. I will reign. My smile says a million things that yours cannot.
What you will not do — I will.
Could it be that I am shameless? That where my heart once was, there is now just a cavity? A gaping hole of severed arteries, dying and spewing dollops of ruby red slickness. Pumping away Life - one ounce at a time. I fear that I am no longer empathic. As I gaze in my jeweled vanity from a pompous throne made of human bones and embalmed sex organs, I see Her so very deep inside of me. I’m withering and wilting like a fleshy rose. I bathe my pale body in formaldehyde and smooth my skin with oral secretions of ex-lovers.
Forgiveness is weakness and memories are sharp surgical tools. When I remember, I suffer another autopsy – opening the same scars and incisions over and over again with each thought of him. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be so deadly. I reside to my gas chamber, smoking insect wings dipped in chloroform – Hallucinating and losing consciousness.
He haunts me. His eyes are hungry like the licking flames of hellfire and black in color. His skin is soft like silk, and his eyelashes are made of lace. His hair falls around me like a curtain, and I swear I can taste the body of Christ – sweet and vital. I am always between Heaven and Hell.
I am in Limbo. Possessed by Pain. Bound to Pleasure. Let me Suffer. Let me Be.
“The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to Your service;
There resides, to make me SLAVE to it; and for Your sake…”
“Being your slave, what should I do
but tend upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
nor services to do till you Require.”
From the pen of: William Shakespeare
Not Everything, but Some Things are becoming quite Clear to me now over the course of Time. The Moon waxes and wanes silently, and many Moons have passed. I am not Changing, I am Growing. I have Blossomed into a Fucking Hard Woman. I have Grown tired of always playing the Pink and Bubbly SweetHeart and the Loyal Doormat to a bunch of Degenerates.
I am NOT interested in your Outdated Traditional Lifestyles. I am Exhausted from observing Ignorant Youths partaking in the “Sanctity of Marriage” in small chapels, only to be Bound Down by a Ring - a Fucking Ring, worth only Monetary value. I am Exhausted by the very same Individuals forfeiting Contraceptives and Pap Smears to wind up Pregnant, over and over again. Is it because it’s easier to Fuck and have babies than visit your local Planned Parenthood for an Internal Examination and a pack of Pills? Does it make you more Anxious that a strange Doctor is eyeballing your Vagina than your “Boyfriend?” It makes you squeamish, doesn’t it? Because you’re dumb as Fuck. Your excuses are Miles High and Miles Long without Substance. You didn’t learn the first time around; they’re all pregnant AGAIN. I Laugh Secretly.
I don’t want to cook for a Man or Children because it is “My Duty” as a Wife or Stereotyped as my Gender Role. Fuck you. Make your Own Sandwich.
And I can never forget the Drugs and the Booze, Because you Can’t get your High or Buzz on your own - Reliance on a Crutch. My Friend, my Foe, my Stranger, I am Not part of your World. I may Be Your Designated Driver and hold your Hair back as your Vomit or catch you as you fall to the Floor, but I don’t Give a Fuck. I am not your Babysitter. I pity your Pathetic Ass, and thank MYSELF for NOT being you or any of you.
Does it make me better? It depends on how you see it, and whether you agree or disagree.
Love CANNOT change someone. Forgiveness is Weakness. Death is a Promise.
I found my Niche. I’m not Crazy. I am a Woman of Power. I won’t be you with a 9-5 retail job forever. I won’t be getting the kids off to bed or calling my spouse because he/she is an hour late coming home from work. Fuck you. Fuck all of it.
Tubal Ligation.
