#im beating artblock with a hammer but it also has a hammer and is also beating me

[mothscotch]

might write a little fic later

transcript:

"Senses are weird"

"my eyes... see. How do they see? With veins and nerves, but, how?"

"there are many."

"then none. It does not affect my sight."

"one, two, one, two, four, the 7, and 2."

"are they even mine? Is my body my own?"

"I am a vessel. A tool. Something to be used. Am i a person , or a machine? Is it i in my reflection? what am i?"

"Hear. I hear screams as i turn their heads into liquid. I hear pleads that go unheard. I listen for footsteps. Clink, clink, clink. My ears are good. They hear what I refuse to. I hear but not listen. I hear flesh become mush become splattered. I hear voices tell me what ive done. I hear praise."

"My hands... touch is the sense. They touch blood. They touch impurity. My hands are dirty. theres blood on them. Its not mine though. Its the hostiles that crossed my path. I killed them. I couldnt help myself from killing them. I enjoyed it. What sick animal enjoys hurting people? I couldnt stop when i saw the first blood. Was my hand forced, or did i force the hand? Do they know what 'purify' means? Does anyone? Do i? Im a sick monster. I get excited when i see gore. A switch flicks. I am not of my own. Taste. I can taste meat on my tounge. I taste my spit. I taste my blood."