Anorexia

She rises off the floor and shakes the dust off her skirt before looking around. The wind blows, and she is barely dressed. The asphalt is frozen and with her bare feet, she chases the ghosts of what was and what could have been. Bitter realities which are not possible and never will  know their fulfillment in reality. Her defining trait-like yours, too,  is hypocrisy. Love can be simulated, and this is a fact known to all. Some fail, but they too were victims of such treatment. Colorful masks laugh hysterically in your rainy nights. Their smile never disappears. And then ... they become masks themselves . Become their own alter egos, devoid of personality and genuine feelings.The febrility of  the circus around you unfolds ... without getting slowed even for a moment, without anyone stopping, without anyone crying or laughing with real feeling ... you're a spectator to this day. Sequins and glitter, elephants and fat naked women, glasses of wine and bread, candles and little light bulbs, fluff and christmas tree decorations, breasts and arms, drums and Campbell, yells and laughter, all in a skirmish of prohibition, of sweat,  the infection of thousands of spirits! No one will be able to heal, no one will go home with all of their legs and arms, with their souls or minds intact... Vomit and sweat, blood and tears! scratching ... rats squeaking in water pipes through which only blood flows now. Nothing but a soup of rust, shit
and rat guts, the apocalyptic machine crumbles in the filthy area of the city. The genitals of a bitch used by all those who live and left aside of each and every one of them, this is existence.A pussy full of grime and pubic hair. Of wounds and purulent , gruesome leakage. Pork lard and sorrows. Blood and sperm. All in one place, in a huge grinder! a machine in which living things go without knowing where they go ... where living parts of them, chopped, dispersed, filled with venom. A rose ... uniting two hands under a serene touch ... but what do you see?! The two hands belong to the same person. With tears on her cheeks, her mouth trembles in a spasm ... her mind replays their first encounter ... but the rose is now dried up and dead, pretty much like her soul . Unlike her eyes, filled with the last tears she can cry. And she is crying them for ...him. And advises pour gently from friends that dont really give a fuck about how you feel ... like it would be a duty to provide sympathy. Because it's odd to offer merely silence wrapped in words without meaning or feeling ... and that is the reality. When the one you love with despair will never be yours but always will belong to someone else , and you will witness all this wretchedness, and they will sink you in even deeper. The reality is when your MOM takes more drugs than you. The reality is when you get to no longer feel any trace of regret, when you are in the OR, in the Gynecology section and the doctor gives you an abortion. When you no longer hear the unborn yelling in a silent pain that he cannot express, and that no living creature could. When your soul is damned to be torn from birth ... and later then the body to be broken into thousands of pieces by the hands on the one that should fight for life and use his knowledge to do good. you are butchered at birth. But what hypocrite i am myself! In fact, I completely agree with abortion. i would understand my mom if she were to have taken that decision in what it concerns me. I would have accepted her decision ...to kick me out of her protective and warm womb. Maybe pain would not have been such a bother. It would be like in one of the dreams in which I can not breathe and from which I can not wake up, risking to asphyxiate myself in my sleep. The few days of its life which would end in a few minutes of pain while the doctor breaks it into pieces: just like one of my nightmares with which I deal almost every night. If i think about it now, I would have preferred to die then and get it over with everything, rather than collecting this mountain of garbage called "memories"
I would have felt that pain only once, it would have been a unique experience but I ... I need to in my every dream ...every time I fall asleep.
And look, now i an myself pregnant...with the demon himself. the demon that is leading us to the grinding machine. People with blank minds- and you are no exception- they don't accept reality as being what it is and being impossible to change. why put a make up on her? why decorate it? shit will be shit no matter how much glitter you put on it. why make it look like a drag queen? like a transvesty with running makeup from all the sweat of his fat greasy skin. his dress is poking from all the fat he is shoving inside and it's visible, oh so gruesome and visible!
 Why so many ideals ? Then maybe i am the one who is unable to integrate in your society, it is I the absurd in a world that is false to it's bone and marrow. Maybe the excess through which i administrate the truth serum will finally damn me evermore.How is it possible that others taste from what I reserved to me?
 This large table filled  with  food, where we'll be forever, for eternity famished , unable to taste the forbidden delights of a depraved world, what we don't want. What delights lie in front of us.
Children with dirty hands, with ripped clothing gazing with tearful eyes at the feast before them, as some icons witnessing Satanic orgies. Expectant mothers can not feed ...  the Angel of Death strokes their back with it's cold fingers,  all in a sexual way, promising them freedom. In exchange for certain services, of course. Foul men doomed to not wake up from drunkenness, cursed to feel the dizziness and nausea of eternity. No, it will not cease. I will never cease! You will always feel the world spinning, you will not be able to catch your thoughts, however you know exactly what you are doing and where you are, you have a trace of consciousness, implanted in you brain. not much, but enough to make you realize that you can't control yourself and that you will pay with your life for what you did.
Elderly people coughing blood ... they can barely walk, barely moving their arms.Hardly can they bare the pain. They do not know who they are and what's going on around them. They suffer from disparate memories ... and their regrets, mistakes that they did and didn't do haunts them, not allowing them to link their memories one to another so that something can make sense in their minds. Unconscious beings, artificially retarded, following the lead of a movie that doesn't make any sense at all. All they can do is feel, all I can do is cry. Victimized to not be able to take control over that which is happening.  I'm dying, and yet Death does not want to take me . Not before she has her way with me and with them too for a couple of thousand years. How did a poor soul came to pray for death? How do i get out? when will it  end?! the process of dehumanization is already done ... but maybe she wants to rebuild people to undergo this process again and again and again.

All these people are here, now, on a wet and dark street into a peripheral district of an industrial city. All are here given each witnesses of torture, of tears, of the impossibility of liberation.

All are here forever, forever famished, forever alive....