Reality.
It traps us in a monotonous,
deadening cycle.
Engulfs our dreams and desires...
...with innumerable obstacles
that are laced with cruel irony.
We try to shadow these inescapable
truths with such lies as cinema...
...use it as a shield of escape.
A coating to shelter us...
...from the ceaseless hardships
thrown in our paths.
Certain films can attempt
to absorb our negative energy...
...in a hope that perhaps...
...they can keep our
darkest emotions at bay.
But unfortunately, flickering light
can only pacify our demons for so long.
And human reality
will eventually rear its ugly head.
Far more horrific than any film
can attempt to portray.
I can see her.
She sleeps so calmly.
Her bloated midsection
slowly rising and falling.
Her every breath, a certain
feat of accomplishment.
I know what she's thinking:
Thinking about her future...
of what she is... what's inside of her.
Her dreams...
are probably so boring.
Not like mine...
Her face is beautiful... soft.
But she never lets me touch it.
We always keep our distance,
and this is fine.
She laughs at me. I know it.
Thinks I'm impotent.
Thinks I could never do
what her previous partners could.
But I know better.
I can do things, see things
and experience things...
...that those soul-less creatures
could never even dream of.
I know what to do
when the time comes.
My life, has slowly become what you
would consider many nightmares.
One cruel and vicious
vision after another.
Imagery, that is built on a constant
thread of depravity... and horror.
That unspools with fury and passion.
But I love this.
I love the cruelty and the torture.
You see, it helps me learn...
...helps me learn about the
enigmas surrounding life and death.
I learn the true nature
of the human being.
This fascinates me,
and scares me at the same time.
But I suppose all types of enlightenment
can be considered frightening.
I learn from these visions that the
strongest monster of them all...
...the one that causes the most pain,
destruction and suffering...
...is nothing but the human itself.
I relish in this fact,
and live it to its fullest.
And now... as the pregnant woman
sleeps alone in the decrepit room...
...it seems that the peeling walls are
looking down on her as well as me.
Observing her, as the tiny being...
...that is growing in her belly
gets more and more whole.
Looking with passion...
...at the small phenomenon
that is passively taking place.
I know what the foetus feels.
It feels irrelevant...
It feels nothing.
It's my job to make the being feel.
To experience humanity at its fullest.
At times, I would quietly
observe the woman...
...making love to an
anonymous partner...
...through the ajar door into
the house's single bedroom.
The odd motions and frenetic desires
seeming so alien to me...
...and familiar at the same time.
I became completely
obsessed from afar...
...with the architecture
of the human sex organ.
The way they were built
with their odd curves and lips.
Perfectly designed by an unknown
god for total symmetry in creation.
How fascinating it was...
Especially when pain was
mixed with the pleasure.
But the whole concept of human creation was
one that obsessed me for years and years.
It amazed me that the simple act
of penetrating and ejaculating...
...into a female sex organ...
...could cause such incredible
happenings and bodily contortions.
Just from a minor liquid outburst.
Sometimes I would myself masturbate,
as I watched the various sex acts...
...partaking distantly like a personal
mirror to their repetitious motions.
I would stare in awe at the slowly
coagulating secretion within my palm.
I could be the ultimate creator.
I held the key within my body.
The true seed that is the
genesis of all creation.
How ironic that without
the power that I held...
...no woman could ever
be able to give birth.
Without this silly wad of phlegm
the human would never exist.
From the first instant
I realized this...
...my observations and fascinations
began to make total sense.
As if everything that
went on in my mind...
...was a part of some
sort of strange cycle...
...that my subconscious
was slowly revealing to me.
It was then, that an idea
sprung to my mind...
How I could cause the ultimate horror
and pain to the creation of the human.
How to engineer the most unimaginable
event one could possibly think of:
To deface the process of creation.
It was incredible.
The idea seemed so... cruel... mocking.
But I had to do it.
The thought was so viciously evil...
...that my sadistic temptations
were a signed pact in themselves.
I was going to be the true
perverter of human creation.
I just had to wait for
the proper situation...
...for the right
circumstances to happen.
I didn't expect them to...
but they did.
I couldn't believe how
fate was on my side.
The opportunity has come,
and I'm staring at it right now.
The pregnant woman... I'll admit
right now... is actually my sister.
We both live in this rotted house.
The only remains of our poor,
and long terminated family.
Realities have since segued
into mutual acceptance.
The two of us trapped in this
residential carcass...
...like a dying fish in an aquarium
of empty memories.
Though my sister was graced
with the gift of beauty...
...I was always hidden
in the shadows...
...and picked upon due to
my looks and manner.
How I hated her.
But now I love her... love her for the
gift she holds and what she can do.
I would like to make love to her.
To revel in her warmth and beauty...
To create.
But my thoughts and visions
always turn to the other side.
And I can't help but analyze
her with dark intent.
Within the first months she got pregnant
from some uncertain lover...
...I couldn't believe the incredible
things that were happening to her body.
The pain and the sacrifice
she had to go through...
...in order to have
the gift to create life.
If I as a male held the seed,
and the secret of creation...
...she as a female, held the
sacrifice and the suffering.
The idea of menstruation seemed like
such a horrifying and macabre joke.
In order to be able to keep the species
going, she had to suffer the pain...
...and discomfort of having
her genitals bleed periodically.
It seemed like such a poetic...
...and oddly sadistic
element of the process.
And I loved her and respected
her for the sacrifice...
...she had made to create life.
But this element of the creation process
also caused me many nightmares...
...and visions of insanity.
Once, when I was sleeping...
...I envisioned that I was slowly caressing
my sister's naked form in bed.
The blood never stopped...
and neither did her pain.
This dream... this nightmare
soon had a great effect on my life.
I slowly began to have an
odd repulsion for my pregnant sister.
And perhaps all women in general.
I kept on having flashes in my brain
of what I had to do...
I was beginning to get more
and more determined to do it.
I hope so... I love you.
You can die soon...
Don't leave me...
People like you always die alone.
He looks at me.
He's the only one that loves me.
He's my brother.
You're just a fuckin' whore...
a fuckin' slut!
It hurts.
Look in my eyes.
It's growing in a dead woman.
Never trust me.
He's a virgin.
Why are you doing this?
Over the weeks that passed,
I'd been overseeing her progression...
...my eyes never leaving
the being that I knew...
...was slowly coming
to existence within her womb.
She appreciated my care.
Even smiled once to me
and called me sweet.
Her smile was one of
unbelievable radiance.
Full of sexual promise and
genuine care all in one movement.
It makes me laugh now a little.
If only she knew...
I wonder if she'd smile...
...if she knew what I
was going to do to her.
But in any way, I was ready
and time was ticking on.
So much that it was almost time
to do my special deed.
Or should I say...
is almost time?
Grammar has never
really been my strong point.
As the time of revelation
grew nearer...
...I would continue to observe her
and tend to her every need.
My sister and her child almost
becoming iconic figures to me.
Symbols that were
made of warm flesh.
I would constantly go over the instructions
that I read on the birthing process.
Meticulously studying the old books that
were left in this house years ago...
...by some unknown
former lodger.
I only learnt from them
the most trivial minor things.
Just enough to make
her think all is well.
That she was safe in the
company of her own blood.
It makes me laugh when I think of
all the preparation I went through.
The towels, the antiseptics...
All the necessary elements
were in place to placate any fears.
I certainly know what I'm doing...
And I know what I have to do.
It's one in the morning...
and my sister screams.
Contractions are beginning,
just like they're supposed to.
She cries when I set up
in front of the bed.
Her preliminary motions
continuing over a period of time.
My sister trusts me all the way...
...giving herself completely
to my instructions.
I feel a small little tingle
in my head...
...and I envision my deed
about to be performed.
Indeed... I will create the greatest
mockery of the birthing process.
Destroy it and everything it stands for
with passion and intensity.
I will be my own god.
This thought is soothing and comforting.
It makes me confident.
Just as I begin to get lost
in my inner dialogs...
...the woman begins to push
with all her might.
Yelling and screaming as her vagina
widens to hideous extremes.
The oddity of the situation
is incredible.
She's experiencing the ultimate sex...
The climax of creation.
The child, male or female, is having
total body sex with its mother...
Penetrated into to her orifice and body
further than any penis could ever go.
She pushes once more and
the face begins to appear.
Strangely fish-like features
etched on its skull...
...seeming almost generic
and mass-produced.
No expression or emotion rages
on the child's phlegm-drenched mask.
It looks like a flesh-sculpture.
Another push and
the child's neck appears.
A sudden shudder of anticipation and
adrenalin rips through my body.
And I realize... it's almost time.
Yes... the time is near.
I powerfully rip the
baby's lower body...
...out of her impossibly
stretched orifice.
The woman's blood now flowing
along with her child's life-fluid.
It was a boy.
The woman's eyes
are so wide in shock...
...that they look like
they're about to explode.
Now... indeed, as I've
always believed...
...I know what the
true face of terror is.
Know the furthest that one
can push a human being...
...in total perversion and insanity.
That face is staring at me
right now. So I bathe it in blood.
I bleed the woman's child-corpse
on top of her face.
Her baby's fluid completely
drenching her features...
...entering her open mouth and
stinging in her eyes.
The blood trails down her throat to
meet her now noiseless screams.
Seeing as her vocal cords
have frozen in paralisis.
She makes an odd choking noise...
...and gurgles up
bubbly-crimson matter.
I continue to dangle the
newborn corpse above her face...
...like some obscene trophy.
Fascinated by the
clammy, rubbery feel...
...of the child's greyish skin.
Of the surprising amount of blood
that can be released...
...from such a small creature.
The umbilical cord dangles
like a dead snake...
...on top of the woman's
blood-soaked breasts...
...and it seems as if the woman
will probably pass out.
Maybe from pain or maybe
from terror. I don't know.
My mind becomes more and
more cloudy now.
I bite the umbilical cord
and shove it back...
...into her still heavily
bleeding vagina.
The end of the flesh-string
slightly peeking out.
It looks like she's grown
a small, bloody penis...
...the thickness of a couple straws.
It makes me laugh, I think.
I calmly place the now
exsanguinated child...
...by its mother's head
on the pillow...
...leaving mother and
child together in death.
The woman as well breathes no longer.
Maybe her heart exploded...
I kind of collapse on the blood-splattered
ground beside the bed...
...and look at the mockery
of human birth I have created.
I smile at how I was right.
What I had done was indeed
the most horrible thing...
...you could do to a human being:
Kill during the process of creation.
I am content.
The child is there for me
to see always.
A reminder of my destiny...
of my evil.
I have built a sort of altar for it
above the kitchen sink.
Wrapped its body in
pretty paper and string.
It smells and attracts
insects... pestilence.
But I find this beautiful
in its own right.
As for my sister... I am with her
every instant of my life.
Taking care of her corpse.
Dressing it, bathing it, sleeping with it.
Only once did I try
to make love to it.
And then, as I slid myself
into her putrefying cleft,
it was so cold and unpleasant.
I realized then that such an act
was never meant to be for me.
I will always be
around death, not life.
It would never work,
no matter who it was.
It would always be dead some day.
Always be dead.
Cunts, how dare you
do this to me.
It's been difficult...
...as it has been in the past, and will
always continue to be in the future.
I don't know how the world
has seeped to this...
...but I do know one thing:
That not one great act
has been accomplished...
...in this most glorious universe...
...without a fight.
When a martyr is born...
...he is not given freely
and openly support and love.
He is beaten and broken,
whipped and crucified.
Hurt because he knows the truth.
And brothers and sisters...
...today our ministry wants you
to join your hands...
...and pray for the fight.
Pray for the fight against those
who throw stones in our path.
I know you love... because you are
the ones who love the most.
We are the ones that God listens to.
We come from your right.
We're the you inside of you
that's just waiting to reign.
We're taking over...
...to destroy the left half.
You wear this symbol
out of fear.
The ideals behind it
aren't even what God wanted.
You wear it for respectability.
You always dreamed
in black & white.
Now your life will only be
one long dream in...
...color!