We recently found the Worm Baby dancing around a little dead bird with obvious joy; a celebration of Death from a child whose own spirit was perverted and stolen from her.
The stronger we get the more of her we can see; the more love we give her the more hate is revealed as it spills out.
Covered in pimples, she openly masturbates in front of me whenever the Beloved is away.
We can still feel her parasitically ‘Kill Mommy Love Daddy’ suckling away at our life energy as we sleep, but ever since the Beloved returned her secret hope for Life and Light has recovered and the feeding is less insistent.
Daddy isn’t going to fuck her, and Mummy isn’t going to die.