Sick and Depraved


The sick and depraved gather together, huddled around weak flames from embers lit with butane, masturbating each other in the name of self-awareness.


They moan their facades, spilling orgasmic proclamations into the mouths of the other wounded animals; they bleed and rejoice in their misery.


“I have awoken,” they say. And then roll over to whoever is beside them and cough. It is the sound of wheezing that they find familiar.


This is a purgatory, a limbo that slowly flattens out and is suddenly filled with the anguish of hell. They are their own victim and tormentor.


Hypocrites and the morbidly depressed, caught in the webs of intricate self-deceit they spun themselves, whine when the innocent come close.


It is the desire of a new life, one they can fatally wound with their lies, that makes them ache and tremble with lust; junkies by their own right.


Perhaps even I am sick and depraved. To be here and to be numb while I watch in recognizable disgust, this carnival of pity is endless. There is nothing here except for us.


These ancient faces, hanging in a hallway with rotten walls will remember me in their blindness. Oh, how they seduced me crawling on hands and knees.


Trails of spit and bile moistens the anxiety of being alive inside a pit like this, to dip your chalice is to kiss evil on the mouth..


Yet, on occasion, the mouth of evil will kiss back, taking all the way one who once wondered what it would be like descending into this ecstasy.


Yes, it will crawl towards you, coming up between your knees pulling you into It as It moves closer and closer, closer and closer.


Until all you feel are the short panting breaths upon your face, a faint weight resting on your lap, something like arms wrapped around your neck.


All you see is the blinking neon trails of light swirling about, It mounted upon It, wisps of exhaled smoke penetrating dissolving hesitation.


It is naked and wet and everything you have ever desired there wanting you, touching you, holding you in suspense. Waiting, waiting, and waiting.


Oh      God       this      is    incredible      


This       is       indescribably     divine    


Please      don’t       stop     


But it does. 

It stops and leaves you gasping for air, naked and damp on cold ground. 

Anxious and shivering,  the sound of the others coughing and moaning.
More from Wyatt Manlove
Trending Posts
Boygenius’ Friendship Trap
Like Dominoes – Why Crypto Exchanges are Failing
Ari Aster's Families On The Fritz
Featured Music
NOW PLAYING
Playing Next
Explore Music