We Are Here to Hurt Each Other

by Paula D. Ashe

I slid it into my mouth and the sweet, milky taste of his ripening trilled delightfully along my ganglia.

HATE that

Recognizing the universe as it is—a cosmic slaughterhouse unending—is difficult as the machinations of reality function only to deceive sentient beings into believing there is some meaning behind the echoing chaos.

I would have incinerated every single person in that filthy bar save the man behind the drum kit.

we've all been there girl. drummers are, at their core, the epitome of the male kind

Pain is the source of all matter. It is the force that holds the universe together, that will tear it apart, only to rebuild again. Throughout the ages, humanity asks over and over again “why are we here?” and then pretends as if the Void does not bellow the answer back every single time. We are here to hurt each other. Again, and again, and again, in perpetuity.

The Deacon spends the night with his face buried between the pages of the Good Book while Jacqueline craves his face buried between the pages of Her good book.

sheets of her skin melt from her bones like tallow.

this description is so visceral and amazing i love it so much

I only know that all of us live amidst violence and horror all the time. Very few of us stop to recognize it. Even fewer of us admit our complicity in it.