I have started to eat more meat.
The hunger is now ravenous. I eat, and I eat, and I eat, blood running down my chin. It is an insatiable cycle, as much as my heart attempts it, I cannot stop. I cannot stop devouring the unhopeful, disconcerted, saddened cadaver, with its dead pores that scream for salvation, with its bruised bones demanding an answer. I hear the voices of these animals; they come to me at times of sleep, when all the tiny ones have resorted to their hidden places of rest.
They yell and wail, how can you let cruelty overtake you?
I find it amusing, the lack of care. I could not be bothered to listen to their pleas; they create a silence, then, that speaks to me, and it says I have won. This unrestrained order has given me the strength I was missing, the strength that had never visited. Until this instance, when my teeth crush the meat is that I feel like I have lived.