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N O T I C E : : m e m o r y _ s t r e a m _ l o c a t e d
I D : : e a t
T Y P E: : E X P E R I E N T I A L
It's such an awful feeling.
As I place the food in my mouth, it doesn't feel right at all. It isn't so much that the taste is bad - it
is bad, but not enough for me to actually care - but rather that the entire experience is wrong from a sensory perspective.
I shouldn't be eating things like this. This feels wrong.
Consuming pre-prepared vegetables and processed meat like this is so utterly soulless. A feeling of disgust wells up inside of me as my eyes run over the coagulation of half a dozen different vegetables, fused together into an indeterminate mass that I simply refer to as 'mash.' It's perfectly nutritious, but that's not the point.
Why can't I...
neck extending forwards; teeth biting down into soft, yielding flesh
ripping, pulling sensation; pressing greedily, eager for more
tugging, pulling backwards, shaking neck from side to side to rip it off
tilting head backwards and gulping down, calling happily
That would be so, so much nicer, I feel. As the thought makes its way through my mind, it fills me with a deep yearning for that which I know I can never have. The emotions are all there: the hunger, the violence, the
craving- but the form is not. I am nothing but a small, weak flesh thing that can barely move for long periods of time; let alone tear flesh from bone with its beak.
And as I shovel the mash into my mouth once again, I know that is all I will ever be, and the thought saddens me.
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N O T I C E : : m e m o r y _ s t r e a m _ t e r m i n a t e d
