Feeding the Soul: Cannibalism as a Metaphor for Intimacy on Mosher Mag

In the deepest, darkest corners of the human psyche, where lust and taboo intertwine like smoke and mirrors, there’s a twisted metaphor that gnaws at the core of our deepest cravings: cannibalism as intimacy.

Not the Hollywood horror show, but the act of devouring another’s essence, consuming them whole—mind, body, and soul. Tearing down every wall, every boundary, until you’re no longer you, and they’re no longer them. Just... us. Something darker. Something deeper. Something that leaves marks.

You don’t hear it often, but true intimacy isn’t neat. It isn’t pretty. It isn’t a Hallmark card that smells like roses and polite hugs. It’s wild. It’s brutal. It’s raw.

In the alternative scenes—goth, punk, kink, and every outcast haven in between—love is more than soft caresses and polite courtship. It’s about being consumed by someone. And in turn, consuming them. There’s no space, no distance, no hesitation. Just pure, unfiltered, blood-thick connection.

Cannibalism here isn’t about devouring flesh—it’s about devouring essence. To metaphorically consume someone is to strip away every mask, every defense, until you’re left with nothing but raw, exposed souls. It’s messy. It’s uncomfortable. It’s deeply unsettling. And that’s where the magic happens.

Cannibalism has always been linked with power, survival, and hunger. At its core, it’s about the primal instinct—the desire to survive at any cost. But when it bleeds into intimacy? It becomes something far more complex.

To truly devour someone is to melt into them—no walls, no gaps. You become part of them, they become part of you. It’s total surrender. A willingness to be vulnerable and to lose yourself completely in someone else. It’s not about control—it’s about absolute immersion.

In the worlds of the misunderstood, the taboo, the outcasts—this is the kind of love we live for. Love that consumes. Love that swallows you whole. Love that isn’t clean, isn’t sanitised, but digs into the marrow of who we are, pulls out our darkest desires, and forces us to face ourselves in the rawest way possible.

For those in the dark, love isn’t soft. It’s dangerous. It’s power plays. It’s trust on the edge of destruction. It’s about being willing to give everything, even the parts of you that scare you. For those who seek the wild side of affection, this is the kind of connection that shreds the script—the kind that does leave you changed.

You think cannibalism is just horror? You think it’s just about murderous hunger? Think again. Cannibalism as a metaphor for intimacy has bled its way into culture like ink through flesh.

Films like Raw (2016) and Bones and All (2022) don’t just feature cannibalism—they redefine it. In Raw, the protagonist’s thirst for human flesh becomes tied directly to her sexual awakening—a craving so primal, so all-consuming, that it threatens to consume her whole.

In Bones and All, love becomes a grotesque form of devotion—where hunger and love are intertwined, and the cost of connection is deeply terrifying.

This isn’t just about blood and bones. It’s about consumption, and how we’re all bound by our need for raw, uncontrollable connection.

Cannibalism isn’t just in the movies. It’s in the lyrics, the literature, the poetry that haunts the alternative spaces.

“I’ll eat your heart.” “I’ll drink your pain.”

These aren’t just throwaway lyrics. They’re battle cries for a love that demands everything—and isn’t afraid to leave you empty and full at the same time.

Writers like Georges Bataille, Poppy Z. Brite, and others use the grotesque to push us past the polished, sanitised bullshit we’re sold as affection. Their works are ugly, raw, and beautiful. They explore the visceral side of love, the side that breaks you apart so you can rebuild stronger and darker than before.

Here’s the real question: are you willing to give yourself up? Are you ready to surrender so fully to someone else that the only thing left is the hunger?

Intimacy, at its deepest, most terrifying form, isn’t about becoming more—it’s about becoming less. It’s about dissolving the self and giving yourself over to someone so completely that there’s no you left to hold onto.

The sanitised, packaged love we’re spoon-fed by rom-coms, pop songs, and mainstream culture doesn’t stand a chance against the real deal.

The real, ugly, beautiful truth about love is that it can tear you apart. It can consume you.

And when it does, you’ll be left with something darker, something more authentic than you were before. Something raw.

And that’s the beauty of it.

For the freaks, by the freaks.

Thanks for reading. Stay strange.

✦ moshermag.wixsite.com/mosher-mag