Friday, August 22, 2014





I look at people and notice their veins, the biscuit crumbs on their chins, the stressing of the‘t’s, their voices turning into long, rusty iron chains rattling against an abstract train track beneath my skull. Sometimes I don't even realize that I am clenching my jaws. I listen to the holes, little crevices in their narrations - a tiny space between a verb and a proper noun and hide there. Each such chinks are like hidden quarries, bowl shaped grey caverns to disappear into, a suspended animation. What normally might result in a frenzied outbreak seem to have the opposite effect on me – a bizarre meticulousness. I don’t understand those annoyingly cheerful people saying ‘wake up, live!’ when life in itself is an oxymoron. The outside of my body is alien to me; I puzzle over the transience of my nails, the swelling mosquito bites and the sudden bruise on my knee. It’s so easy for something to suddenly break, tear, bleed, sugar levels to go down, pressure to shoot up, and heart to stop beating. Right now, the ideal thing to do is numb my mind. Give it anesthesia, suffocate it with chloroform, fit a clockwork it its place, practice the smile, the nods, the cheap conversations, cooking tips, some local gossip, mindless bits of news, who killed who, who married who, skin problems, weight issues, balancing femininity, classiness, brainlessness, banality while inside me that howl grows louder and louder.

Art by Paula Bonet

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