Freeform Response
to a Graven Image
A proclivity for disobedience,
that’s all. When she said she was no good, that all she would be is trouble, I
thought she understood what a curse is. She had no black cloud around her head,
and she knew right from wrong. But her lip quivered as she confessed that I would
never see her again, and I only wish I had knew her a little better so I might
argue that she’s so full of shit.
She did her
best to hide the obvious, like clutching water or sand only to become covered.
Her plain clothes fit loose enough to make out her perfect form that she only
could feel shame for. She wanted to break from her own skin to find no other,
but simply to vanish forever.
I’m not
afraid of dying, and if I become afraid of anything I just move on. I didn’t
know what a naysayer was and that every single piece of evidence I gathered to
remember was for my own contextual benefit, while they had their own for
telling me. I kept the ball rolling far beyond their expectation because of
what they didn’t know I already knew.
Casualties, or The
First Time I Took Ecstasy
“Kiss it and make it better,” she
said as I went from slumping to cringing in my squeaky chair. She leaned across
the table and made sure I was watching. The triangle formed between our eyes
and her body as I quickly disappeared.
Flags were going up, my blood was
filling my dry cavities of my head and I was trying to find words I would only
utter upon my departure. She ripped her clothes off and felt my hair with her
tiny tongue. The grease and saliva turned ghost yellow upon bonding and froze
there. She too hardened as she waited to be moved, to a clean sheet, to a
desolate dream about everyone we used to know and hope we could make that last
forever.
Her hot breath drew me in, I could not
look away. We pierced each other with our parents’ arrows, with a promise of
good health and suffering. I don’t think she considered our outstanding
relationship and track record as she sucked the soul out of my window. I was
traveling for a distant moon, a plate of cheese that I would have thrown up if
I was any younger, with a palate only ready for the bland, wet and tasteless.
It had become dark without me noticing and she was nowhere to be found. I felt
so used, so ready, I needed it again and scrounged the couch and floor for any
trace of me, an offering to the vicious jaws and permeating space.
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