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
but
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
slowly
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
finally
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
savior
victim

“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. 

Malicia

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Fetus in Fetu

I was too young when I made you
Skinny limbs and glass-like eyes
Staring into the bright future
But with each passing year the world grew smaller
around me
Now I realize you don’t fit
Your skin scraping against mine
and
If I try to pull you trough the eye of time
your stitches break, arms and legs flinging off in various directions
And what do I get,
a bleeding piece of your abdomen
The remnants of a childhood dream
to tuck in under my pillow
at night

This is kind of a sequel to my last piece: “Miscarriage”.

[Fetus in fetu (or foetus in foetu)] is a developmental abnormality in which a mass of tissue resembling a fetus forms inside the body of the host.

Malicia

Miscarriage

It’s all so much easier now
As blood is flowing down my thighs, I lean back on the hospital bed
The memory of you forcing your way inside me
Fading with the pain
I don’t care, I want everything out of me,
the twitching
the turning
the hope of a new life
bleeds out on the floor
I thought I could make something beautiful
out of my shame
tame my monster
into something people could look at
and appreciate
And I would forget
that I never wanted you in the first place
But it’s easier
being empty
filled with nothing
To give up half way there
Rather than experience the horror of birth
The possibility of you tearing me apart
From the inside
“Stay dead”, I whisper at the sweet nothing
deformed little fetus lying limp on the floor
between my feet
before I wipe away the blood
and exit trough the emergency door

 

Malicia

It hurts

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Artist: Howard Hopkins

 

I think of the cracked painting in my room, and it hurts
Hard work spilled
For something I couldn’t appreciate
I think of all the lives that were never fully lived, and it hurts
I think of the scars on your arms where I sank my teeth and it hurts
I think of his leathery wings brushing tears off my cheek, but the thoughts won’t stop, and they keep falling
I imagine our flight and the heavens catch fire beneath us
I dig myself deeper to make it hurt more
(Eventually it has to stop, right?)
My mind is starving and want’s blood
I can’t afford to spill
You offer me yours, but I just can’t live on fantasies
They only increase the longing
And longing brings starvation

I still feel all of their hands on my back
Impelling me, pushing me in different directions
Living is never enough
It has to hurt
You knew when you told me
“I won’t stop cutting unless you stop being so goddamned pretty
And if you cry about this, it only proves you don’t care”
So I hold back my tears
(God, it hurts)
Hoping maybe, maybe I won’t bite into your flesh too
My teeth tend to leave ugly marks on people like you

I thought having your heart broken was worse than being the one breaking it
Now I know I was the lucky one all along
You see, as much hurt as it did to my body
(You, inside me, telling me to just hold still and accept it)
(You, telling me that maybe if I said yes just one more time, you’d love me)
(Just one more time)
(I’ll love you soon)
And as much as I’ll never recover from the shame
Yet every push made my mind drift further away
Until I was free
And you weren’t
Now you tell me you lay crying out my name at night
Full of regret
And I tell you “I don’t care.”
So say I’m heartless
(Really, I don’t mind)

My thoughts are a weapon
They try to kill me in my sleep
Saying “You deserved this.”
But truth is, no one does
And the wounds will always sing to those who listen
So I wake up, and turn all the fiery words into soft, soft feathers
Building wings that make me fly
So that I can follow him
The voice that calls me from another world
Eyes that gaze from beyond the sea
I no longer have to bleed to feel close to him
I no longer carve his name into my skin
He lives safely inside me
This man
Creature
Entity
I’ve always known
In the castle where everything is safe
And nothing ever hurts

 

It’s been too long without posting anything here, so have this huge, chaotic piece of my mind. This one resolves around a lot of people that have or has had an inflict upon me (imaginary or real). I’ve gone trough a few rough days with a lot of memories floating up to the surface and as the title says, it hurts. But then again, who would I be if it didn’t?

Malicia

Blooming meadow

[Sensitivity warning]

I hurt again last night
With fists and knuckles
pounding bare skin
I kept hitting the same spots
Until I screamed
Watching the purple flowers unfold
My skin is a blooming meadow
Thriving with pain

I didn’t mean to inflict damage
No – I wanted the hurt to stop
I know I was stupid
I should have taken my pills and gone to sleep
But the anger!
The fear!
I thought I could hit it all quiet
Shutting all the screaming mouths
Now their shadows are etched in blue and yellow on my arms
Shouting: A battle was fought here
There wasn’t a winner
They struggled until exhaustion took them
Now their dying smiles
Form a blooming meadow
where nothing but shame grows

I’ve developed a different kind of panic attacks recently. At first I get this overwhelming feeling of anger, unsure towards what, then frustration, desperation, pure fear. It’s like a hammer constantly pounding on my chest and I can’t make it stop. It goes on for hours. I search for a way of letting it out but I don’t know how. I started hitting myself repeatedly, finding the spots on my arms where it hurt most and targeted them. Now I have bruises and a terrible shame.
/Malicia

The God With The Mortal Complex

 

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Five years old, he knew he wasn’t like the others.
From birth, his first word had been “why”.
His siblings didn’t understand its meaning.
It wasn’t for them.
They knew only to feed and breed, to enjoy their existence but not to question it.
“Why” was a human word.

Ten years old, they told him not to bleed or feel pain.
He rejected this knowledge, using the sharp edges of his halo to cut his rib cage open at night, when no one could see
A phantom death
A trip to the stars
Whose cold light pitied him

Fifteen years old, his siblings wanted to rule the fate of others
While he wanted to rule his own
Exiled, he began to search
For meaning to his endless existence

Teach me, he begged
Teach me to suffer
He started drinking himself to sleep each night
Saw what humans dreamed of
Tasted their tears
Condemned their fears
Fools, he said
As they wept at the sight of death
All I have, you yearn for,
But all you have, I may never gain
Such twisted irony,
that Heaven would not be for gods
And no one will redeem me!

A short story with a quickly made drawing by me.
/Malicia

 

Echidna

 

Creation consumes creator.
You think that’s beautiful?
The bursting of skin, the taste of newborn blood?
You think this is the life I chose?
Consider what I pay.
I will always be half present, half alive, birthing someone else.
I feel so much yet I gain so little.
When people need me, I am not there.
When I need them, no one is there.
I’m too involved with my fantasies and not enough with my human body.
I spend nights systematically beating myself up, next day I cry over my bruises.
I am made of rot, my heart is glass, everything leaks out of it, I can’t control my emotions.
I am followed by the thoughts I banished, they grow stronger in my absence. Then return to devour me.
I read made up lines over and over to distract myself from it. I cling to everything I find. I can’t let go without breaking bones. I can’t cut of anybody else, I only know how to hurt myself.
I keep making things up. My creations live. They grow. They eat me.
I create them again and again so that they can’t die.
They end up living in my place.

Echidna was, in Greek mythology, the mother of monsters.
And no, I am not feeling well.
/Malicia