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Why are we here for the sake of sound, when the rhythm is falling upon deaf ears? So why are we here?
I unlocked their jaws and shoved one hand down their throats, but the bones in my wrist are beginning to twist and to splinter. As hard as I try to shovel slimy, decayed ignorance from their insides, it slips through my fingers. They're choking on the hand that feeds them; it's all done in vain. I can see each train of thought that's been stolen from another one of them sewn in their brain. This anger is consuming like the sea, tossing and turning inside of me. Can my hand not get a better grasp? I'm desperate to make them see, to make this final cure last. But their jaws are clamping down around me; hungry. My tendons are lacing through their teeth as I pull out my shredded hand, piece by piece. I'm an open wound and they're thirsty for blood, hungry for life, and in love with glory. Believing they won't fade far past their expiration date, because as long as there's two they'll thrive off eachother. They may not be alive but somehow they're surviving, chasing me; I'm outnumbered. I fall to my knees and they meet me willingly on the floor. I'm screaming for the sake of morality and all that is right, for the sake of sound and sight. They can't see or hear; only smell the sickly sweet scent of blood, of life, of humanity. But they'll never even realize that that's all they've ever wanted to be.