CW: Self-harm/Grisly imagery

Inflict trauma upon your head, and let it inspire poetry,

Oh, you have no idea how beautiful a canvas it will create

With it being trepanned, tre♫ pan♫ ned, tre♫panned♫♫♫♫

Until your scalp reveals its true side

(Your naked skull stripteasing your scalp for fun)

--- Fun, fun, fun, ohh funn

Promised by the landscape of birds, plants, flowers.

All those oompa-loompas calling you names,

Your bullies, yes!

everybody is out to get you

What will you do? What will you do?

Oh, mama, my sweet mama, my head hurts,

Shame, shame, shame on you, you little girl,

Your mama is not there to save you,

you’re alone, oh la la, la,

you’re alone

to moan

oh, you’re alone!

Are you ready to begin the ride?

press 1 to start, press 2 to start, press 3 to start

call the operator to get fucked directly –

but of course, it’s a premium service,

we also allow BNPL–

take your pick NOW!

oh, you chose option 3.

Of course, you poor weasel, I should’ve known that!

but wait a minute, here’s a surprise for my darling,

these three buttons come with some roooooleeez:

For ‘1’, you’ve to bow your head until your eyes meets your ankles

For ‘2’, you’ve to tickle your belly button until you touch your cord, bleeding profusely

For ‘3’, you’ve to take a snap, create an outline around your face, take a black marker

write, ‘me’ five times until your photo starts to look pretty,

now take the marker & start doing your bit.

Want help?

ok, let’s do it together,

i will choose a crayon for the real effect, you know

ok, so, here i wrote my first me’, check, mate

check mate!

my 2nd, my 3rd, my 4th, my 5th, oh wow, i’m reliving school days, aha!

Hello? you there? Why are you so quiet?

aaa- u said something? sorry, i was preoccupied with something,

of course, the photo thingy.

photo? which photo? u mean photon?

(yeah that too) but, no photo, my snap?

we were writing ‘me’ on it, remember?

no, i don’t.

STOP LYING!

no, why would I lie? I’m being honest.

I AM ALSO BEING HONEST.

Are you?

Yes, I’m.

Then tell me why are you here?

I–I-I-

don’t know.

Ok, stay here once you figure it out, have to go run some errands. Bye

NOO, DON’T GO, PLEASE, DON’T LEAVE ME HERE,

ITS TOO DARK HERE.

HELLO? HELLO? IS ANYONE HERE?

HELLO? HELLO?

HELP ME, HELP ME, PLEASE

HELP

HELP

HEL–

Two days after

HELLO? HELLO?

HE-(sobs)

PLEASE LISTEN, somebody pleaseeee, pleaseeee help,

I’m stuck here.

*sobbing continues*

One day after

(singing)

Old McDonalds had a farm

Which was so warm

E-I-I-O

(sulking)

warm? Like the hug of my mom.

Mamaaaa, i miss you,

Where you?

Mamaaa, i feel so scared,

Mamma, please help me..

Mamamaa, mamm–

(faints)

Fifteen days after

Dear diary,

You know I don’t have a pen to write, so let me imagine myself writing you. It’s so fun, you

know. They say empower your imagination, but do they know, I have none to empower in the

first place. They say it helps your creative process. But only I know, my baby diary, processes

are shit. You know why? Because they are like mixers mamma used in the kitchen to create

juices of fruits and veggies. I used to stop mamma from injuring them, from breaking their limbs

but she never listened to me. I never had juice, ever, you know. Because I used to feel I’m

basking in the blood of my frennies. I had a strong relationship with tomatoes, they were so

bright and lively, always used to crack jokes and play pokey-finger with me. Cabbages were fun

too, they’d let me flake their skin and then show me how to repair it. Onions were my favourite,

they said, layers are important, bakho. They hide so much in them. I used to keep myself under

those layers in the game of hide & seek, and nobody ever found me.

Wait, wait, I can hear somebody’s footsteps. Somebody is coming. HELLO? HELLO? WHO IS

THERE?

GO AWAY!

I’M WARNING YOU.

GO AWAY!

OR I WILL HIT YOU.