I take a giant piece of off my dead animal, and as blood runs down my chin, I look at you and ask you what your fucking "problem is?" As if you have a problem, as if you're not alright, as if you've just been lazily picking at your piece of dead flesh for the last twenty minutes because you are god damn excited to be eating again. OH MY GOD EATING AGAIN! Finally! To put something in that disgusting stomach of yours. Full of acid and shit and bile and FUCK YEAH! I can't wait.
Sometimes I don't eat for days just because I don't fucking have to.
My body is a temple and there is strictly limited access.
I am worlds apart from anything you know...think bigger than tentacles...think deeper than the ocean.
Sometimes I eat for fucking days on end, everything I can get my hands on.
My weight fluctuates anywhere from 140 - 220 and I don't give a single solid fuck about it.
Sometimes I lay on myself at night and I can't sleep because my bones are grinding on my bones, I'm just that fucking skinny. My face is sallow and sunken in and my eyes look heavy and tired because there's no fat to keep them up, and all I can do is smile my receding gum-line smile, because I am starving from the outside in and I want everyone to see how fucking happy it makes me.
Sometimes I fall asleep in a fat sweaty pile of human leather, just breathing and waxing and waning and waiting to be put out of my fucking misery so I can be turned into a couch or a jacket or something pretty...a fucking cowboy hat for christ sake, just anything but me.