a stream of consciousness to get all the words out of my head
write.
write. write.
whisper
soft, like a feather in the night, like touching something – someone –
valuable, like your big, brutal hands may break it or take away its softness
like sandpaper roughing up its surface and what’s rough on the surface isn’t
all gooey inside, that’s a lie to make the monsters less scary, to bring a
light to the darkness. but the truth is, that big shiny light tower is just a
tiny candle flickering in a hurricane and it doesn’t lighten anything, instead
it gets swallowed by the darkness covering it like a blanket, not soft but
heavy – suffocating.
talk
endlessly, like a river clashing from one bend to the other as if the water
can’t decide which way to go, because it doesn’t want to carry the weight of
making a decision on its shoulders, pushing it down and breaking its back. it
flows over the edge onto the once dry ground, reaching down every crack and hole, filling it up.
scream
loud. roar to get attention. a loud noise is always followed by an empty
silence. they come as a pair like the couple that can’t keep their hands to
themselves, they’re roaming all over each other’s body like they’re looking for
something they can’t see but feel. fill the silence with your scream and let
the words flow out of your brain like the water rising out of the river; they
don’t belong there. once the words are in your mouth – on your tongue – they
beg to get out, they bang at your teeth like caged animals sticking their head
through the bars to see the world without vertical lines, flashing their teeth
at it as if to say: “I’m ready for you and I brought the flamethrower.”
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