Hanahaki Lovesong


They say,
if you give your body to someone
who doesn’t love you
a flower begins to grow in your lungs
reaching higher and higher trough the airways
slowly suffocating its host

If I’d known,
I wouldn’t have washed my sheets for you
making my illness seem like an amendable mistake
now the covers are ripped off, revealing
the blood and bile beneath
I said I didn’t want to have a child
You said can you give me more time

The bathroom sink is covered in hairs
I pulled them as I slammed your head into the edges
again, and again
does it feel good, love? do you feel powerful?
Thin slices of brain matter
pave the way to the shower
where I lean back and place a hand between my legs
and think of how I could have owned you, too

but you didn’t know, did you?

Isn’t that ironic? We tend to be more attracted to people
who reflect our own issues
so who can blame me for making up scenarios
on angel boys with itching self-harm scars,
bent over their kitchen tables at 3 am
crying over a piece burnt toast
and completely unaware that the world has moved on without them

disillusioned, like me, as I wash my regret down the sink
and spray weed-killer over the floor
to prevent the growing plague of awareness
the clogged breathing emerging from the drain
(I’m a very hungry girl)

So go along and call me a bore
a one-night-asphyxiation and a waste of time
say I did not even have the lungs to scream
as you pushed my knees onto the floor
I didn’t know my pride had to die
so your love could live
(go home and lick your wounds)
you’ve now become the sickness




[footnote: Hanahaki is a fictional disease appearing frequently in angst art and fanfiction where a person will cough up flower petals as a result of unrequited love. The only ways to avoid eventual suffocation is to have love answered, fall out of love with the person, or sometimes have the growth surgically removed. Pretty edgy stuff!]


Parasite – A Love Story (Remastered)

[Warning: contains strong language, implied sex, suicide and other triggering themes. Thread with caution.]

It starts with you and me in a gutter
just where the last battle ended
in our collective defeat
The rain covering us in promises
comforting to you
unreachable to me

your figure is blurred
the contours of your neck shining like a halo
trough the mist
I clench my teeth
as if this was a good place for your god…

I can barely feel the ground
I think I’m floating
curled up in fetal position
you’re approaching
with gritted teeth

“Gow ay” I spurt
my tongue gone numb from the cold
I won’t be your savior
not this time

Shouldn’t have said that…
You reach for me hesitatingly
and when you pick me up
I think my bones break in three
maybe four places
I cry out in sheer pain but you remain calm
you scrape me off the ground
and you hold me firmly
merely an inch from your chest
the way you hold on to something sharp edged
to prevent it from cutting you trough

“I hate you,” I whisper while you carry me
the way home seems longer than before
every step sends another wave of pain trough my body
and each time I yell
with added indignation
“I hate you. I fucking hate you!
But either you are not listening
or you do not care…

You lay me down on the couch to dry
like I’m an old piece of wood
and I say it again
but choke on my own words as you’re
shoving a spoon into my mouth
not even trying to conceal the disgust on your face as you
make me swallow
every mouthful
it all runs trough me like I’m empty
you have the touch of a lover
but my skin is so cold and I’m
still floating

In the small hours of the night I drift off to sleep
my head still leaning on your arm
We share a dream
a pleasant one
the sunflower fields of home
a world outside of the machine
a very real make-believe event
your fingertips on my lips and I think I’m no longer floating

But the dream ends far too soon
and I wake up my lips wrapped around a sour, metallic pipe
You standing above me, the hand with the gun shivering like crazy
“Give me one reason not to blow your fucking brains out”
you declare this and I shrug
my teeth clattering against the barrel
What gave it away?
I must have talked in my sleep
I say nothing
You’re eyes are burning
for a minute or maybe more
When I remain quiet you curse out loudly
throwing the weapon on the couch and storming off into your room
I don’t sleep much for the rest of the night

Weeks pass by in a haze
I cling to your presence, neglecting life
and I know you love me
when you lower me into the bathtub
cleaning me gently with your hands
did you really think you could wash it all away
when you try to feed me again
I resist violently
scratching your wrists when you try to open my mouth
you pull back in terror
“Why would you do that? I’m trying to help you!”
blood deluted with salty tears when you caress the marks I left you
but you don’t understand
only by staying this weak
cold and blue and hanging on the ledge of death
can I earn your pity
so I may
be the whisper behind your ear at night
the chilly breeze from the window

The more I approach you, the weaker you grow
You become absentminded,
forgetting to lock doors behind you
Almost as if you wanted me-
no, as if you’re daring me…
it couldn’t be…

Just inside your bedroom, you’ve constructed a tower of empty liquid bottles
I don’t know which is meant to keep me out –
the mere physical obstacle,
the way I cut up my feet when stumbling over the glass containers and they shatter beneath me,
or the poison that seeps into your mind
making you numb
so much easier for me to enter

I stay up all night, silently standing guard by your bed
watching you writhe and moan among the sheets
Nothing I can do to help you now
I should
I may even want to
I can’t
I’m making it worse
curled up here
so close to your vulnerable heart
I can’t stop now
I can’t
I’m deluded, high on the sensation of being alive again
I sneak closer and closer
eventually I crawl down under the covers next to you
enjoying the sensation of your skin against mine
I am cold, cold as stone, while you are dazed with fever, your body protesting the silent intrude
I caress the exposed veins on your wrists
I’m tingling with need
then you wake with a start

“What the fuck do you want? What are you doing here?”
You make a feeble attempt to push me away
your arms lack strength
so does your mind
I descend upon you like a fog
I hear you moan as you
give in

I don’t know who kissed first
no one would admit to it
we’ve started and we can’t stop
You pushing your body against mine and I
drinking your pain greedily while you
whisper curses into my mouth
Entering a symbiosis of lust and wanting
we give ourselves to each other
I cry out in pain
I cry for more
Our nest is covered in sweat and fear and passion and longing and
when you call out my name
I swear it sounds like poetry

I think I knew
that was the point from where we couldn’t recover
when it was too late
to loose the anchor
to forsake the sinking ship

It’s not like it was unexpected
I know no one could survive this kind of intimacy
with something like me
nobody can love an abyss
without being swallowed by it
the worst is, when the time comes
they usually throw themselves down willingly
no longer wanting to be apart

Hence I shouldn’t be surprised when I find you
the next morning
lying motionless on the bathroom floor
covered in crimson red
the wounds on your wrists gaping hollow
smirking at me

“How dare you?”
I yell in a high-pitched tone
as I drag your lifeless body trough the corridor
leaving a thick trail of blood behind
“How very fucking dare you try to leave me like that!”

My body fails me
as my feet slip in the warm blood and I
collapse on the floor

“God damn you!”
I yell
barely noticing
the tears falling down my cheeks
it’s all gone too far
the roles should be changed
but I’m the one cradling you

“I thought you were different!
You were different!”
the limp thing in my arms makes no notion of my words
a beautiful cage of flesh
a withering flower
even dead
you’re more than I will ever be
an endless drifter
a ghost
between time and space
doomed to watch everything slip trough my fingers
feeling the pulse of their last heartbeat
as it fades away in my grip
Even then I can do nothing but detach
return to the gutter
hoping for this eternal cycle to end

Such is the life of a parasite.

So, what can I say about this? It started out as a fan-fiction, inspired by something I came across online, and now it’s completely taken a life of its own. I wrote the initial version of this a long time ago on my blog, and I felt it was time I gave it a total revamp. Sorry for the length, I couldn’t keep it any shorter. It’s been a thrill to write and I’m quite pleased with the result. 


Parasite (A love story)


[Sensitivity warning: contains strong language, slight gore, implied sex, suicide, angst material in general.] 

I see you coming.
Your figure blurred in the rain.
I’m lying in a pool of water down the street, wrapped in a white cloth.
Shaking from the cold.
The mere sight of me repulses you.
This pitiful creature once your enemy.
I sputter, my lips barely able to pronounce the words.
“Go away.”
But you won’t. Instead you pick me up, like a child.
Always such a goddamned hero. I clench my teeth.
“I hate you,” I whisper in your ear as you carry me home. Again and again. “I hate you. I hate you.” Either you’re not listening, or you do not care.

You lay me down on the couch to dry, like an old piece of wood. Feed me by force, not even trying to conceal the disgust on your face. You don’t want to touch me. Yet you cradle me like a baby. You loathe my whimpering, my apathetic stares. Still you can’t take your eyes off mine.

In the small hours of the night, I drift off to sleep in your arms. We share a pleasant dream about the sunflower fields of home. When I wake up I can taste sour metal in my mouth.
“Give me one reason not to blow your fucking brains out,” you whisper, standing above me. The hand with the gun is shivering. You have felt it. You know that I’m venomous.
So what should I say? I shrug. I don’t have an answer.
After a while you curse loudly, throw your weapon away and storm off into your room.
I don’t sleep much for the rest of the night.

Weeks pass by slowly. I cling to your presence, neglecting life. I refuse to eat, throw away most of the food you offer me and vomit up the rest. I starve, over and over. No matter. Only by staying this weak I can earn your pity. Only by remaining a ghost I can be allowed to live in you. By gaining access to your most cherished memories, I sate my own, painful incapability to feel. When using your emotions, I can remind myself of being human. It’s almost real.

The closer I come to your world, the weaker you become. You grow forgetful. Stop locking the doors after you. Almost as if you want me, as if you dare me to enter.
Just inside your bedroom, you’ve built a tower of empty liquid bottles. The poison is taking over your mind. I stay up all night, listening to you having nightmares. You writhe and moan among the sheets. There is nothing I can do to help. I know I’m making it worse by being here, curled up so close to your vulnerable heart. But I can’t stop. I’m high on the sensation of being alive again. Every night I crawl down beside you, enjoying the sensation of skin against skin. I am cold, cold as stone, while you are feverishly hot. I caress your veins slowly.

Who kissed first? No one would admit it, but once we’ve started we can’t stop. You press your body tight against mine and I drink your pain greedily. Entering a symbiosis of lust we give ourselves to each other, becoming one. I cry of pain, I cry for more. Our nest is covered in sweat and fear and passion and longing and when you call out my name it sounds like poetry.

I’m familiar with the ways of nature. I know the stronger host kills the weaker eventually. Hence I shouldn’t be surprised when I find you lying against the wall, bathing in crimson red. The wounds on your wrists are gaping hollow, smirking at me.
“How dare you?” I yell as I drag your lifeless body trough the corridor, leaving a thick trail of blood behind. “How very fucking dare you try yo leave me like that!” My fragile body fails me. My feet slip in the warm blood. I collapse on the floor.
“God damn you!”
I barely notice that I’m crying. This emotion thing must have gone too far. I shouldn’t bother. I shouldn’t fret. What is this, but a beautiful cage of flesh to mourn over? Another life claimed. Another death on my cursed existence. Not allowed to love, not allowed to feel for another.
And I do.

Such is the life of a parasite.

The inspiration for this came from a wonderful piece of fanfiction written by http://vxctoriano.tumblr.com/. Thank you for letting me adapt your work, and I hope you like this.

Ps. This is fiction.


Purgatorium part 2, Oronar


(c) Malicia Frost

(c) Malicia Frost


”You shouldn’t have come here.” OneWinged’s heart beat more intensely by each second. She knew the appearance of the satyress could mean one thing only.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

”If anyone sees you here…” she murmured in panic, but was cut off.

”I know.” A dark shadow had placed itself upon Ealys beautiful satyr eyes. It made them seem pale blue instead of their natural, snow white tone. Her horns gleamed in the last rays of the descending sun.

”So trust me when I say that I have good reasons for returning here. I know I promised you to never interfere with your life again, and I’m really sorry to have gone back on my word. But you have to come at once. There isn’t much time.”

OneWinged felt like a cold and sharp stone fell down her throat. She’d known it in the same moment the satyress appeared before her, a figure as soft as a shadow on the flowered wallpaper. She had sensed what was about to come, as a gathering thunder storm.

”It’s Oronar,” Ealys breathed, fulfilling all of OneWinged’s fears. ”He is dying.”



OneWinged whimpered and slowly collapsed against the wall behind her. Every nerve in her body shivered at the name. She pulled in a dry sob as memories started to play in her mind – Oronar smiling, Oronar holding her, Oronar bleeding endless rivers of black on her polyester carpet.

”Why?” she managed to cry out, gasping for breath. Ealys sent her an evaluative gaze.

”I think we both know why,” she said. ”Surely you haven’t forgotten about the warning I gave you. The ancient judgement? Demons are not meant to fall in love with humans, OneWinged. You must be aware that they are not meant to fall in love at all.”



OneWinged’s heartbeats were pulsating as blood rushed trough her veins. She could hear a weak, ringing tune in her ears.

”I’m not a human,” she said weakly, feeling the broken wing attached to her left shoulder. ”I…”

”You were,” Ealys replied, ”and in a sense your still are. Look at you.” She reached out a hand and carelessly wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. OneWinged flickered.

”There’s nothing to be done about it now,” Ealys stated in a seemingly nonchalant manner. ”I only came here because he’s asked for you. If it is your wish to see him one last time, I shall take you back to Purgatorium. This once only.”

OneWinged nodded, her eyes filled with blistering tears. She never meant for any of this to happen. All she had wished from the beginning was for Oronar to be safe. Therefore she had left, even though it ripped her heart to pieces, and therefore she was now back in the place she loathed and feared. Living as a shadow, pretending to be something she was not. All for him.

And all in vain.

OneWinged took the satyresse’s offered hand and closed her eyes, trying not to think of the journey that lay before her, and what she might find at the end. Purgatorium called her back. Oronar called her back. There was a curse between them, a curse so strong it slowly tore him apart.

Who would be cruel enough to call it love?


– Malicia Frost