The torso is so alien, so inhumane it almost is a turn on. Like breeding an alien species after taking over their planet. I feel like a conqueror of worlds looking at these figures. But at what cost? At what cost do I feel such alien pleasures? Will I live to learn the error of my ways? Is this life I have chosen to live, to allow my eyes, the very windows into my soul, to gaze upon such inhuman beauty? Can I even be called human after such feelings? Where do I go from here? What land lays unconquered after such rewards have been reaped? Are they even rewards?
What am I? What form have I taken now, in this new territory unknown and foreign to even my own species. I fear the worst. There is no turning back, I must go deeper. To turn back now would destroy me, to go forward perhaps I could find a new self. Am I broaching the new flesh? Is this the merging of worlds? Such creatures that lie before me, beyond comprehension or explanation. This exotic eroticism, so beyond my frail human brain I can only bask in its warm unearthly glow. This is the peak before the plunge.
I am remolded before such forms. But also find myself incapable of taking them in, in their totality. Each feature bubbles and squirms before the last, an amalgam to dense and far to complex for my mind to make sense of. I feel some ungodly desire, some filthy longing that cannot be called love or lust. Not even obsession pulls me now, these forms entrance me. From the impossibly blank stare which can only remind one of death and its longing for life. The neck, the length of time itself and yet I find it already forming into gargantuan cancerous tumors of flesh heaped without mercy or pity upon such frail bodies which then again change. Now into the mirroring of womanhood, but even a boy would know this is no womans perch. These hips while not lies are certainly far to perverse, too horrifying to be truths of this world or any other.
Is this the void, or have I become it?