To pulp the fiction.
rating: +10+x

I don’t know if I was born to consume, or if that you were created to be consumed.

But you aren’t my first prey.

It was a word.

A concept.

A small idea.

“No one will miss it”, I said to myself, and started to feed.

And, while scarce, its taste only made me grow more ravenous.

The following was a phrase. An idea so simple yet so emotional that I just couldn’t resist to eat.

The more food entered into my mouth, the more I wanted to fit. I started to search for more. Dancing trough an unending sea of breath and ink, I finally found what I was searching for.

A verse. The subtle nuances of its taste filled my tongue and, for some moments, I felt full. The warmth of its emotions kept me alive for years. Decades, even.

And then I heard it.

The vibration was so beautiful, so complete, that I couldn’t keep myself from touching it. Its love engulfed my senses as I prepared my body to engage. At first, it was just a small caress, followed by a grasp. I kept squeezing, until my love became a punch.

I could smell it. I could feel it already inside me, and I hadn’t even started to eat.


I found a problem.

My mouth, despite massive, couldn’t open wide enough.

But I’m resilient. I started to break. To tear. To pulp. The song became but a cream which I carefully consumed sound by sound. There was nothing left.

I wanted more.

I rampaged trough the eternal forest of black and white, trying to satisfy my ever-growing hunger. My obsession to consume, to engulf, to pulp and then destroy.

I was never satisfied, even when I ate a layered dream and a fruitless journey.

I was never satisfied, even when I ate a dreadful life and a shared search.

I was never satisfied, even when I ate a drowning artist and a lost companion.

And then I smelt more.

I encountered myself in a room filled with eyes. I found a dish whithin. And the dish became many. Every time I tore apart, I saw that there were ten like it left.

I circled in this room, like an eternal Ouroboros, for quite some time. I ate the first word, and then the second. Until suddendly, I ate the room.

Outside the room there were more eyes. Different eyes, but eyes still. I destroyed them. I pulled them apart and broke trough the roof.

Above the roof I saw a light, more bright than anything I had ever seen. Every time I chewed the eyes, the light became brighter and clearer.

Every moment that passes, the crack becomes bigger. The more I pulp, the more hungry I am.

Any moment now, we will be face to face.

I will break trough your walls.

And drink from your chalice.

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