Reality.
It traps us in a monotonous, deadening cycle.
Engulfs our dreams and desires...
...with innumerable obstacles that are laced with cruel irony.
We try to shadow these inescapable truths with such lies as cinema...
...use it as a shield of escape.
A coating to shelter us...
...from the ceaseless hardships thrown in our paths.
Certain films can attempt to absorb our negative energy...
...in a hope that perhaps...
...they can keep our darkest emotions at bay.
But unfortunately, flickering light can only pacify our demons for so long.
And human reality will eventually rear its ugly head.
Far more horrific than any film can attempt to portray.
I can see her.
She sleeps so calmly.
Her bloated midsection slowly rising and falling.
Her every breath, a certain feat of accomplishment.
I know what she's thinking:
Thinking about her future... of what she is... what's inside of her.
Her dreams... are probably so boring.
Not like mine...
Her face is beautiful... soft. But she never lets me touch it.
We always keep our distance, and this is fine.
She laughs at me. I know it. Thinks I'm impotent.
Thinks I could never do what her previous partners could.
But I know better.
I can do things, see things and experience things...
...that those soul-less creatures could never even dream of.
I know what to do when the time comes.
My life, has slowly become what you would consider many nightmares.
One cruel and vicious vision after another.
Imagery, that is built on a constant thread of depravity... and horror.
That unspools with fury and passion.
But I love this. I love the cruelty and the torture.
You see, it helps me learn...
...helps me learn about the enigmas surrounding life and death.
I learn the true nature of the human being.
This fascinates me, and scares me at the same time.
But I suppose all types of enlightenment can be considered frightening.
I learn from these visions that the strongest monster of them all...
...the one that causes the most pain, destruction and suffering...
...is nothing but the human itself.
I relish in this fact, and live it to its fullest.
And now... as the pregnant woman sleeps alone in the decrepit room...
...it seems that the peeling walls are looking down on her as well as me.
Observing her, as the tiny being...
...that is growing in her belly gets more and more whole.
Looking with passion...
...at the small phenomenon that is passively taking place.
I know what the foetus feels.
It feels irrelevant... It feels nothing.
It's my job to make the being feel.
To experience humanity at its fullest.
At times, I would quietly observe the woman...
...making love to an anonymous partner...
...through the ajar door into the house's single bedroom.
The odd motions and frenetic desires seeming so alien to me...
...and familiar at the same time.
I became completely obsessed from afar...
...with the architecture of the human sex organ.
The way they were built with their odd curves and lips.
Perfectly designed by an unknown god for total symmetry in creation.
How fascinating it was...
Especially when pain was mixed with the pleasure.
But the whole concept of human creation was one that obsessed me for years and years.
It amazed me that the simple act of penetrating and ejaculating...
...into a female sex organ...
...could cause such incredible happenings and bodily contortions.
Just from a minor liquid outburst.
Sometimes I would myself masturbate, as I watched the various sex acts...
...partaking distantly like a personal mirror to their repetitious motions.
I would stare in awe at the slowly coagulating secretion within my palm.
I could be the ultimate creator. I held the key within my body.
The true seed that is the genesis of all creation.
How ironic that without the power that I held...
...no woman could ever be able to give birth.
Without this silly wad of phlegm the human would never exist.
From the first instant I realized this...
...my observations and fascinations began to make total sense.
As if everything that went on in my mind...
...was a part of some sort of strange cycle...
...that my subconscious was slowly revealing to me.
It was then, that an idea sprung to my mind...
How I could cause the ultimate horror and pain to the creation of the human.
How to engineer the most unimaginable event one could possibly think of:
To deface the process of creation.
It was incredible.
The idea seemed so... cruel... mocking. But I had to do it.
The thought was so viciously evil...
...that my sadistic temptations were a signed pact in themselves.
I was going to be the true perverter of human creation.
I just had to wait for the proper situation...
...for the right circumstances to happen.
I didn't expect them to... but they did.
I couldn't believe how fate was on my side.
The opportunity has come, and I'm staring at it right now.
The pregnant woman... I'll admit right now... is actually my sister.
We both live in this rotted house.
The only remains of our poor, and long terminated family.
Realities have since segued into mutual acceptance.
The two of us trapped in this residential carcass...
...like a dying fish in an aquarium of empty memories.
Though my sister was graced with the gift of beauty...
...I was always hidden in the shadows...
...and picked upon due to my looks and manner.
How I hated her.
But now I love her... love her for the gift she holds and what she can do.
I would like to make love to her. To revel in her warmth and beauty...
To create.
But my thoughts and visions always turn to the other side.
And I can't help but analyze her with dark intent.
Within the first months she got pregnant from some uncertain lover...
...I couldn't believe the incredible things that were happening to her body.
The pain and the sacrifice she had to go through...
...in order to have the gift to create life.
If I as a male held the seed, and the secret of creation...
...she as a female, held the sacrifice and the suffering.
The idea of menstruation seemed like such a horrifying and macabre joke.
In order to be able to keep the species going, she had to suffer the pain...
...and discomfort of having her genitals bleed periodically.
It seemed like such a poetic...
...and oddly sadistic element of the process.
And I loved her and respected her for the sacrifice...
...she had made to create life.
But this element of the creation process also caused me many nightmares...
...and visions of insanity.
Once, when I was sleeping...
...I envisioned that I was slowly caressing my sister's naked form in bed.
The blood never stopped... and neither did her pain.
This dream... this nightmare soon had a great effect on my life.
I slowly began to have an odd repulsion for my pregnant sister.
And perhaps all women in general.
I kept on having flashes in my brain of what I had to do...
I was beginning to get more and more determined to do it.
I hope so... I love you.
You can die soon... Don't leave me...
People like you always die alone.
He looks at me.
He's the only one that loves me.
He's my brother.
You're just a fuckin' whore... a fuckin' slut!
It hurts.
Look in my eyes.
It's growing in a dead woman.
Never trust me.
He's a virgin.
Why are you doing this?
Over the weeks that passed, I'd been overseeing her progression...
...my eyes never leaving the being that I knew...
...was slowly coming to existence within her womb.
She appreciated my care.
Even smiled once to me and called me sweet.
Her smile was one of unbelievable radiance.
Full of sexual promise and genuine care all in one movement.
It makes me laugh now a little.
If only she knew... I wonder if she'd smile...
...if she knew what I was going to do to her.
But in any way, I was ready and time was ticking on.
So much that it was almost time to do my special deed.
Or should I say... is almost time?
Grammar has never really been my strong point.
As the time of revelation grew nearer...
...I would continue to observe her and tend to her every need.
My sister and her child almost becoming iconic figures to me.
Symbols that were made of warm flesh.
I would constantly go over the instructions that I read on the birthing process.
Meticulously studying the old books that were left in this house years ago...
...by some unknown former lodger.
I only learnt from them the most trivial minor things.
Just enough to make her think all is well.
That she was safe in the company of her own blood.
It makes me laugh when I think of all the preparation I went through.
The towels, the antiseptics...
All the necessary elements were in place to placate any fears.
I certainly know what I'm doing...
And I know what I have to do.
It's one in the morning... and my sister screams.
Contractions are beginning, just like they're supposed to.
She cries when I set up in front of the bed.
Her preliminary motions continuing over a period of time.
My sister trusts me all the way...
...giving herself completely to my instructions.
I feel a small little tingle in my head...
...and I envision my deed about to be performed.
Indeed... I will create the greatest mockery of the birthing process.
Destroy it and everything it stands for with passion and intensity.
I will be my own god.
This thought is soothing and comforting. It makes me confident.
Just as I begin to get lost in my inner dialogs...
...the woman begins to push with all her might.
Yelling and screaming as her vagina widens to hideous extremes.
The oddity of the situation is incredible.
She's experiencing the ultimate sex...
The climax of creation.
The child, male or female, is having total body sex with its mother...
Penetrated into to her orifice and body further than any penis could ever go.
She pushes once more and the face begins to appear.
Strangely fish-like features etched on its skull...
...seeming almost generic and mass-produced.
No expression or emotion rages on the child's phlegm-drenched mask.
It looks like a flesh-sculpture.
Another push and the child's neck appears.
A sudden shudder of anticipation and adrenalin rips through my body.
And I realize... it's almost time.
Yes... the time is near.
I powerfully rip the baby's lower body...
...out of her impossibly stretched orifice.
The woman's blood now flowing along with her child's life-fluid.
It was a boy.
The woman's eyes are so wide in shock...
...that they look like they're about to explode.
Now... indeed, as I've always believed...
...I know what the true face of terror is.
Know the furthest that one can push a human being...
...in total perversion and insanity.
That face is staring at me right now. So I bathe it in blood.
I bleed the woman's child-corpse on top of her face.
Her baby's fluid completely drenching her features...
...entering her open mouth and stinging in her eyes.
The blood trails down her throat to meet her now noiseless screams.
Seeing as her vocal cords have frozen in paralisis.
She makes an odd choking noise...
...and gurgles up bubbly-crimson matter.
I continue to dangle the newborn corpse above her face...
...like some obscene trophy.
Fascinated by the clammy, rubbery feel...
...of the child's greyish skin.
Of the surprising amount of blood that can be released...
...from such a small creature.
The umbilical cord dangles like a dead snake...
...on top of the woman's blood-soaked breasts...
...and it seems as if the woman will probably pass out.
Maybe from pain or maybe from terror. I don't know.
My mind becomes more and more cloudy now.
I bite the umbilical cord and shove it back...
...into her still heavily bleeding vagina.
The end of the flesh-string slightly peeking out.
It looks like she's grown a small, bloody penis...
...the thickness of a couple straws.
It makes me laugh, I think.
I calmly place the now exsanguinated child...
...by its mother's head on the pillow...
...leaving mother and child together in death.
The woman as well breathes no longer. Maybe her heart exploded...
I kind of collapse on the blood-splattered ground beside the bed...
...and look at the mockery of human birth I have created.
I smile at how I was right.
What I had done was indeed the most horrible thing...
...you could do to a human being:
Kill during the process of creation.
I am content.
The child is there for me to see always.
A reminder of my destiny... of my evil.
I have built a sort of altar for it above the kitchen sink.
Wrapped its body in pretty paper and string.
It smells and attracts insects... pestilence.
But I find this beautiful in its own right.
As for my sister... I am with her every instant of my life.
Taking care of her corpse. Dressing it, bathing it, sleeping with it.
Only once did I try to make love to it.
And then, as I slid myself into her putrefying cleft,
it was so cold and unpleasant.
I realized then that such an act was never meant to be for me.
I will always be around death, not life.
It would never work, no matter who it was.
It would always be dead some day.
Always be dead.
Cunts, how dare you do this to me.
It's been difficult...
...as it has been in the past, and will always continue to be in the future.
I don't know how the world has seeped to this...
...but I do know one thing:
That not one great act has been accomplished...
...in this most glorious universe...
...without a fight.
When a martyr is born...
...he is not given freely and openly support and love.
He is beaten and broken, whipped and crucified.
Hurt because he knows the truth.
And brothers and sisters...
...today our ministry wants you to join your hands...
...and pray for the fight.
Pray for the fight against those who throw stones in our path.
I know you love... because you are the ones who love the most.
We are the ones that God listens to.
We come from your right.
We're the you inside of you that's just waiting to reign.
We're taking over...
...to destroy the left half.
You wear this symbol out of fear.
The ideals behind it aren't even what God wanted.
You wear it for respectability.
You always dreamed in black & white.
Now your life will only be one long dream in...
...color!