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Beatrice Costello

I feel like my head can weigh a ton so drugged the almost painful feeling of wanting to embrace the darkness again, I end up having terrible difficulty trying to open my eyes with my heavy and inert body. last week, your passionate kisses mixed with the taste of the cigar right after the beating, the firm and harsh words culminating in the abortion, the painful hunger for the blood of the only man I loved, and finally the pleasure of seeing his eyes widen in fear and become furious when he found out who his tormentor would be.

The savory taste of our declarations of love was as sick as the way I arranged for his death, covering every one of the doubts and fears mixed with the confused feelings trapped in that cell called home, a sweet taste involving my tongue making the monster nourished for so many years finally breaks free, taking his place in the sun claiming ownership of this filthy soul I carry, wanting to expose his exploit to the world the way he wants more