The Cannibal Within Read Online Free PDF Page B

fashion—darted back and forth in the darkness.
    The Corpses I Saw From My Cage
From my cage, I could see mutilated body parts—shapeless red heaps—scattered haphazardly on the ground.
    Skinned, eviscerated, and split in half—butchered and dismembered like animals—the corpses scarcely looked human.
    Adjacent to some grayish bones—bones covered with a strange fungus--I could see a statuesque torso of a black female. Strikingly flawless—with slender, panther-like shoulders, perfect, mahogany-colored skin, and firm, equally splendid breasts—it had neither head nor limbs. I had seen dozens of sculptured torsos in art museums—masterpieces made from imported Italian marble—but now the whole notion of depicting one body part alone seemed revolting.
    Some fifty feet from the torso—on the opposite side of the cavern—was the rotting corpse of a pregnant woman. Bloated with foul-smelling gases, her intestines protruded from her vagina and rectum. Between her decomposing thighs—in the cleft between damp hairs—I could see her rotting fetus.
    Adjacent to the fetus—near a bloody white bottom—was a severed human head. The head was mangled—the upper jaw and nose were missing, and the skull was fractured on the right side, just above the temple—but the remains of the face gave it the appearance of a young Asian woman. Were she alive, I remember thinking, she would be beautiful.
    As I stared at the young woman’s dimpled face, it appeared to be moving. Was she smiling in death at me? I wondered. Was she giving me an enchanting, sphinx-like grin?
    Then I noticed the reason for movement. The head was an abscess filled pus, stench, and corruption, and it was swarming with fat, loathsome, white maggots. These hellish creatures— squirming as they fed—made the face grimace and move.
    I vomited uncontrollably—a watery vomit mixed with slime and blood.
    Another Strange Dream: Whores, Priests, And Crucifixions
Heavy with sleep, I slipped again into unconsciousness and had a horrible dream. The dream—the conjunction of the brutal and the fantastic—was based on a blasphemous passage I had read in Justine , a pornographic novel written by the Marquise de Sade.
    In the dream, I could see two crosses in the middle of a ghastly place—a parched wasteland covered with broken human bones.
    Gold, the feces of hell, was scattered everywhere. Swarthy priests—all of them small, ugly, and effeminate—were busily collecting the nuggets. Nearby, a syphilitic old whore— studded with ulcers—was watching them. The whore was laughing.
    She must be alive, I thought in the dream. According to legend, dead souls cannot laugh.
    Nailed to the crosses were two thieves. Naked except for crowns of thorns, they were called ‘Perverted by Wealth’ and ‘Degraded by Poverty.’
    Crucified in an inverted fashion, their protuberant bottoms were visible. In the cleft of the buttocks—in a certain small and obscene orifice—was something that resembled a bleeding heart.
    Although most people are dyslexic in nightmares, I could read this inscription on each of the crosses:
‘He who died on the cross was only its first victim.’
    My Life As A Breeder: How The Monsters Collect Human Wombs—Bloody And Fertile— And Use Them To Produce Food
In the years that followed, I was raped periodically by the monster. Since he seemed to enjoy sexuality at a primitive, blood-soaked level, the rape always included violence.
    Traumatized by the abuse—fists and feet, teeth and nails were used against me—I came to believe that all sex is pathological.
    Ultimately, I realized that we feel our organs—including our sex organs—only when they are sick. Since genital orgasm is the most powerful of all feelings, it must be the greatest of all sicknesses.
    ***
    Since the monsters are extraordinarily fertile—as fertile as cockroaches—I would produce many mutant babies for them.
    All my children—the fruit of monstrous crime—the mongrel