Hunger Games

nomnomnom

No longer can I restrain myself.

I am become gluttony, destroyer of meals.

There is no morsel that escapes my gaping maw. There is no stomach in me, only all-swallowing void. I am indulgence incarnate; I am obese, grotesque, virgin, harlot, whore. A festering gash upon the face of the world am I, rapacious, hideous.

Some find Him in asceticism, but I have found something deeper, something pure. Before God, hunger; before Being, hunger; before Hunger, hunger. Blind, insatiable, primordial—there is only food and feeding, an endless ravenous gnashing of teeth. Of this cosmos we can say only this: it is edible. It can be eaten.

All is born to be devoured, even death

even god.

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