chronology of shame | #12

Context: https://diegelbetapete.com/2026/08/17/chronlogy-of-shame-pretext/

Yesterday, you made me bleed. Your nails scratched my flesh off my insides and blood came loose in soft, light red streams. I came and with me came the bleeding all over your hand, your black-and-white fingernails now red, translucent, I have to think of a horror movie and the next video we watch has them all – Krueger, chainsaw, Michael Jackson in Thriller and that guy from Saw.

But I’m digressing. The thing is, it wasn’t horrible, actually, it was pretty okay, and you ripping me apart felt like gushing myself onto the street saying here I am, fuck this, fuck all that became of me or was supposed to become hadn’t I been so stubborn, so painfully organized… No, this is not digression, this is me feeding off my blood on a Monday evening, me cheerfully falling all for it and your bloody hands, too. Godlike, they appear, and I wipe myself clean, shower, we take a break. You know this can happen, you know it from other girls, and I know no one has ever fucked me so thoroughly before, so all-in, so nothing to lose, maybe you finally see that I am lost already, you see me and I see you in both our eyes… I bleed for a little longer and then we are back to passion and it couldn’t be more intense, it couldn’t be more gentle, and I want to say I love you but I don’t, but I know that in these moments we both love each other so that it’s all we ever care about. Us and the blood, now our shared vessel to hold on to.

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