It’s four in the morning and the storm, as it was promised, is still giving birth to an apocalypse. I leave my window open to meditate to the croak of wind clashing against the walls to my bedroom. The scent is thick and fresh, humid and muddy, fresh blood for recently bandaged wrists. When my phone is turned over, waiting for a message, lightning illuminates the lower half of my body. I drool a wad of spit onto my cockhead and pump it down into my pubic mound.

bloodfucker sent a pic

there’s a full moon on Friday

think u can wait til then

send me another face pic

kaneki-kun 04:06AM

an hour ago u wer 5 miles away now ur .6

is that you in the pickup down the hill

crazy that someone like u has lived this close to me my whole life

The tarp has its own ocean within it from the storm. At first, the water is cold and makes me feel fragile, and then it’s warm, and my brain feels like mush. God peeled off the ceiling and bent the glass into an abstract sculpture right through the furniture and family memorabilia. One day, all of us will amount to dust. All of this suffering we endure is less than a nanosecond within the timeline of the universe. Most of that time will be spent in blank space, black holes eating away at everything until it’s a consummation of a starless void. That’s sex, to me. When I’m being fucked, I feel like a supernova obliterating everything in its path. Within that thought is also my death, the transformation into a black hole. What’s disappointing is that when he kills me, I’ll just be dead. I’m just a bag of flesh asking to be ribbons. Not a star. Not my favorite planet. Not my constellation. Just a human that’s dead.

kaneki-kun sent a pic

bloodfucker 04:09AM

cute. i want to cut you into pieces with a chainsaw.

r u sure u still wann do this, . once you step onto the plastic there’s no turning back.


yeah i want this


before I lose consciousness, you should remind me that my life amounted to nothing

that all of this was inevitable, and I deserve it

are you sure you won’t get caught?

When I was eight years old, a young boy’s skeleton was found in the woods near my home, and ever since then, I can’t help but know that it should’ve been me. I hadn’t done anything remotely terrible yet, but I always knew that I would eventually drift into some sort of sickness. Or maybe it was the bullying and sexual abuse that made me feel that way.

bloodfucker 08:15PM

you don’t need to die. you could heal u know

ur taking the easy way out if you do this

not that i’m complaining too much


if u won’t do it fine I’ll do it myself

i can probably get off while hanging myself

if u don’t do this to me i’ll end up becoming like you but stupider

i’ll be the first queer person to do a mass shooting

plz respond

thought you were the real thing, guess not



all those shooters are closeted faggots

but you do you man

still game for it tho   :champagne-bottle: :eggplant-emoji: :sweaty-face: teardrops:

I want to die. Poverty is not worth living for. Nor loneliness. Grief. Hate just builds and corrodes. I can’t tell if I’m more homicidal or suicidal at times. Thought I could download all of the pornography in the world and get off to all of it, but life is shorter than you imagine. Pornography is the only thing that keeps me from killing myself. I think about dying when I jack off. I want my fucking head cut off and put on a stick. Want someone to beat me to death with their fists. When I sleep, I dream of someone gutting me open and eating me alive. Wake up screaming from it. I’m sick. The more I realize that nothing in this world is going to change and the ones that I love will always be dead the more I just want to be dead and I don’t get what the fuck is wrong with that. Fuck you if you don’t understand. Just let me die. Before he died, I thought nothing was more esoteric and erotic than the act of death itself, but then I saw him there and realized that there’s nothing beautiful about it at all. All I feel is shame for ever thinking it was something more than a horrifying end to an incomplete story that rapes the souls of others. Did the killer of that child experience the same feelings that I had when jacking off to the idea of becoming a fresh slab on an autopsy table? Or did the esoteric high eventually wane off and he succumbed to the nihilism that human life is worth so little, that it doesn’t even matter if you kill these people, they keep fucking reproducing and killing themselves. You, as one person, can never just kill enough people on this world. The umbilical cord was choking me to death when I was born. I survived and grew up to be this faggot with mangled wrists and a fascination with his own death. Maybe G-d was involved in that. Science went against his word and let me become this ____. It happened to my mother too. My grandparents had two stillborns before her. All strangled by the string meant to pump them to life. Why do people think giving birth is beautiful? Have you ever seen what a dead baby looks like? Have you seen what a pussy looks like after giving birth? You seen a dead woman with her body cut open and the dead baby zipped up into a fucking bag and taken to be incinerated? Ever seen a fetus dissected? I can tell you where to find those pictures and videos. First, you need to download a Tor browser, get a Virtual Machine, and

kaneki-kun 04:16AM

is it fucked that I’m horny as fuck right now thinking about it

but when it happens I’m not sure I’ll be hard at all

it won’t be anything like I imagined

death is always sick, painful, depressing, ugly

on second thought that’s what i am

bloodfucker 04:18AM

don’t care didn’t ask

i’ll still be hard

i hope you find peace for once after you’re dead

cum yet

go to bed

When I told him that I fantasized of dying, he said that he still loved me and would attempt to roleplay killing me if that would make me happy. He killed me more than a thousand times. Each time that I died, it felt just as real and erotic as the last. Thanks babe. I love you. Thank you for understanding…I could never do shit like this without anyone else. You’re the only person that doesn’t make me feel so fucking sick. It’s not that I wanted him to literally kill me, but being killed and humiliated while having an erection has been a fixation of mine ever since I first heard about that skeleton. Each time I’d cum was as if I were becoming more like it, those bones in the woods, the innocence that once came from it, stolen, for the sake of someone’s sexual urges. After his death…I’ll never feel that way again. Just thinking of it makes me want to kill myself. All that’s left for me is this. What kind of kid projects their own image onto a skeleton? I don’t care how it happens. There’s many ways that would get me off, but I don’t care anymore.

kaneki-kun 04:20AM

just popped over my face

k, night

Friday wouldn’t work. There were tornadoes nearby. I took him out to the woods where they had originally found my first victim 19 years ago. He was very sexy in those chino black pants, Converse shoes, a graphic T-shirt of some anime character that was on his Grindr profile pic, and a stone necklace that dangled to the center of his chest. His chest, that’s where I wanted to put my knife. After he got naked, I took pictures of him with the rotting nature behind him. I tied him to the tree and flogged him with snapped branches. Injected him with my diseased blood and meth for fun. He thought I was really going to kill him when I started choking him, but then I saw the tornado coming for us, so we took shelter beneath the freezing mud and dead grass. I told him, “I’m going to fucking kill you tomorrow. I’ll find a house that’s already been abandoned and ruined by the storm and fuck you in it. I’m going to fucking rape you. Shoot you in the head. Cut your throat. Then stab you in the chest again and again. I’ll look at your dead body, contemplate it, and probably rape it again. I might unload the entire clip into your head, actually. I want each hole in your skull to be wide enough for me to fuck. You don’t know it yet, not until your soul ascends your body after death and watches me doing it before drifting through the ceiling, but I’m going to scream as hard as I can at your mangled-brained-spewed-face and ejaculate all over your cerebral cortex. I’m going to dig out your fucking thalamus, take it home, and bake it with your testicles. Only then will I have come to understand what all of this trauma and grief has put you through. You do realize that you deserve so much better than this, right?” Too late now. But this is what you wanted. This is what you wanted.

kaneki-kun 09:00AM

can’t sleep

all I do is think about what happened to him in his last moments

which is more depressing – cremation or being buried

have you ever been in love


i’ll give u the answer 2 that question before u die if u remind me

u hard right now



never again


not true. all my victims get erections after they’re dead. it’s natural.

hey, it’s friday. 😊 lol

Hope you’re ready for this.

When the storm ends. The sky is lavender. Swirling like a cotton candy machine. There’s a monumental catharsis. But my cum has no taste. I can see through my flesh. The bed is soaked with rainwater and my feverish sweat. I squeeze my pillow. The phone rings, but I don’t answer it. It’s not who I want it to be. It hasn’t been for a while and never will be. I imagine Heaven bringing the tornado down over my house and having it yank my bones from out of my sore, pale skin. But it doesn’t happen, and it never will. This life, as brief as a nanosecond, feeling like a for life in prison sentence, never ending, the slow rot to hell. I’ve been jacking off all night to the thought of my death and now that I’m flaccid, exhausted, drenched, garroted by depression, I’m not sure there’s anything like this that feels as worse than death itself.