The Memory Cannibal
Hunt them down and hang them up. Whites of the eyes, smash rocks into skulls. Rip them to pieces, tear them to shreds. Into the pot, meat of the man. Gristle between teeth. Cracked joints. Bone marrow supped. Eyes mashed into jelly. Claret stained gums, lick them clean. Fingers dig deep into wounds, fishing around in intestine. Grey matter gruel, skulls as cups. Snap off fingers and gnaw on knuckles. Chunks of skin stuffed into mouths. Boil it, roast it and toast it. Shred the white meat and scream to the sky.
Every bite brings back slivers of the self. Soul food takes on a hideous secondary meaning. Memories slink back into the brain and for brief fleeting moments they become human again. They break from the fog grasping at a past that slips through fingers. A high that feels human but is abhorrent in nature, so potently wicked it unlocks any thought.
Soon the recollections recede. The fix fades. Another broken and hungry shell hunting for the next meal of memories.
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