It’s like the Nothingness in Neverending Story. Grey wisps moving along. I feel this immense emptiness in my body, stomach, chest, I want to rip it out me, good god get out! Grotesque talons for the expelling, sharp jagged curves sinking into flesh, oozing bad blood from serrated perforated wounds. I cringe as I claw maniacally manic at lumps of heavy pressure, little rivulets of fluid and skin bounding down pain spirals. Hack slash dot alt control end me enders game. Last Starfighter jettison payload and bullet the riddled corpse. Body snatch body swap, burn baby burn pyro flame my form, let loose gasoline dreams and stinging singeing flakes from the hole in my chest. Empty, full of hate, decardia. Shed skin and slither into scaled hyde looking for the old in and out, not enjoying it, just in it for the thrill. Thrill is gone, he’s gone, blues my color.

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