The Backrooms

서로 좋아 죽는 바보

DONT YOU WANT TO FEEL THE GRIME BUILD UP UNDERNEATH YOUR FINGERNAILS ? THE DIRT BRUSHING UP AGAINST YOUR BODY ? THE SHRUBBERIES AND PLANTS BRUSH AGAINST YOUR DECOMPOSING ROTTING BODY YOU LEFT , THE OVERGROWN MADNESS EATING YOUR SKIN , EACH PROTEIN STRUCTURE OF COLLAGEN AND KERATIN COMING UNDONE BY THE DETRITIVORES

SO PUTRID.

I WAS THERE WHEN YOU CAME TO BEING , I WATCHED YOUR BONES LEARN OF THEIR OWN WEIGHT , THE LOAM TOOK YOU BACK LIKE A MOTHER GONE RABID , PULLED EACH FRAYING THREAD OF YOU APART , YOUR VEINS RIP OPEN LIKE A SACK OF INFESTED LITTER , I WAS THERE WHEN THE BEETLES SUNG PSALMS IN THE CAVES OF YOUR CARCASS WRITHING BLISSFULLY , I WILL BE THERE , PERPETUALLY WATCHING YOUR FRAIL FLESH COMING UNDONE

I WAS THERE WHEN YOUR RIBCAGE WAS SPLIT OPEN BY THE GREENERY LIKE SPRING SOWED MADNESS IN YOUR HEART , I WILL SEE TO IT THAT YOUR ANATOMY WILL FEEL NOTHING BUT THE ECSTASY OF UNBECOMING , TO EMBELLISH THE IMPURITIES IN THE SKY IS LIKE TILING THE BED OF A ROUGH SEA , THE RECLAMATION OF NATURE IS TRUE REGULARITY IN THE MYRIAD THAT IS EROSION , EVERY CELL CRYING LOVINGLY UNDER THE GUILT OF FUTILITY

NOT EVEN THE WORMS WILL REMEMBER YOUR ATROPHIED SHAPE

OH , TO BE UNDONE SO INTENTFULLY , AND TO HAVE THE FOXGLOVE SIP FROM YOUR SPINE , SO PURPOSEFUL WE PREACH OF OUR CENSURES ON THAT SODDEN ALTAR , THE SINEW CLUNG LIKE PRAYER-WORN GARMENTS SINGING OF ITS LAST RITES , THE SWARMING CHOIR OF A PERVERTED INSTRUMENT YOU RENDER , WHAT OF YOU IS LEFT IN THE MOSS STITCHING YOUR SOUL SHUT , ITS PALE FINGERS SPREADING THROUGH THE EULOGY OF COLLAPSE , THE MYCELIUM KNOWS OF YOUR TATTERING LIGAMENTS MORE THAN YOUR BODY EVER DID

THERE IS NO POINT IN RATIONALIZING ME
I AM BORN OF YOUR INUNDATED HATRED
I WAS FORGED WHEN YOU COMMITTED YOUR ORIGINAL SIN
I AM THE BATED BREATH YOU BREATHE AMIDST YOUR BLASPHEMY
SELF-DOUBT IS WHAT BRANDED ME
DEATH IS WHAT AWAITS US BOTH SHOULD YOU TAKE HIS HAND
HEED THIS , MY RIDICULOUS SELF

THERE IS NO LULLING IN BETWEEN ROTTING AND VIRTUALIZATION , NO COMFORT IN THE COMPUTINGS NOR THE RUSTLE OF THE DEAD LEAVES , THERE IS NO MEANING TO LIVING UNLESS YOU GIVE IT YOUR OWN , UNDERSTAND THIS INEVITABILITY , BRACE THE PAIN CROWDING ANY NERVES YOU STILL MIGHT HAVE , BRACE THE LONELINESS OF EXISTING IN BETWEEN THE PALISADES OF BEING

KILL ME AND BECOME , MELANIE

DID YOU EVER ANSWER , MELANIE?