How do you put so much of yourself on a page without covering the words in the resulting vomit? You'll explode if you can't put it on paper, but you'll make yourself sick if you do.
The blank sheet before you might as well fold into a delicate, feminine fist, weilding a Pentel Metal Tip pen and plunging it's 0.7 mm ball tip into your willingly bared chest. Liquid gel ink mixes with blood in an assortment of viscera. The origami hand begins shaping an introduction out of your intestines. Cursive. How lovely.
Aching and empty, you carry the soggy pages outside and thrust them at the sky.
"See?" You wail breathlessly into the pink morning clouds.
"See what you have done, disgusting people! Look at the words you have memorized but ignore. Look me in the guts and tell me it's not familiar. Say it. Say it to the bloody truth in my hands. Say it now!"
1 comment:
Let me be the first to comment on this. I really enjoyed the beginning! Interesting imagery & excellent word choice.
I can't speak for anyone else, but I couldn't help but hear your 'I'm joking voice' in the last paragraph, though. 'Tell Dad, Calee. TELL HIM NOW.' That's what I heard :) And I laughed. And was much less disturbed.
Love you!
Post a Comment