/lit/ - Literature

I was in some hellbeaten wooden room, firebrands lining the walls and everything dyed a sickening red. I fell up the stairs of a narrow hallway and my bones broke like chalk. I'm not good at remembering dreams. It was hot in there and I was scared for some reason, a primal burning shard of a cracked poison splinter. There was a woman. She was hurt, no; there was something wrong with her. She had no skin or something. Instead of a vagina she had a big bloody hole with seeping blisters and cuts. I crawled to get away from her, I crawled on all fours and I crawled backwards across the stained purple floorboards of the chimeric room.
I wasn't going to get out of there. There were no doors and no exits. So I went up to the woman and I fucked her hole. I fucked it and I got blood on my chest. It hurt like gnashing tin foil between my teeth. It hurt like swallowing mercury. But I liked it and I fucked her until I woke up.
When I woke up I thought of my mother and a pain burned in my heart like I ate something I didn't chew. I turned over and humped my bedsheets, thinking of girls kissing each other and licking my penis.