Sunday, January 15, 2006

Grounds for feeding the beast

Wake up and eat sand. You hack and cough and struggle against the inevitable, still you swallow. It’s pouring down your gullet. You feel it inside you. There is something sinister about this sand and now it’s inside you. Your mouth is grainy and your voice is gravel. There is going to be a severe comeuppance later down the line and you know it. This is the reason your kids will suffer some agonizing soul atrophy affecting everyone around them with thought radiation.
Mortars make waves in the dusty morning air causing your nutsack to tickle. Nothing to worry about, just practice rounds, you tell yourself. Practice rounds, out here, sound like real rounds coz they are real rounds.
Rattle go your sleeping quarters coz it’s made of paper. Shit, shower and shine and it’s time to start another day. On your way to breakfast, kicking up clouds of dust, you notice a dragonfly stationed on a paper wall. You’re a snake and you catch the dragon with hammers for hands. Its iridescent wings mesmerize by reflecting many colors of dawn. Royal purple, rusty reds, electric blues and the clarity of beauty flick slowly in the dragonfly wings as you pull one, two, three off her thorax. You put the one-wing dragon in your pocket and hold the leftovers in your hand up to your face entertaining yourself with colors. You’ll feed the dragon to the scorpion later. Waffles loves dragonflies. She’s such a greedy little devil. Let the wings go into a cloud of dust.

1 comment:

infinitesimal said...

you are brilliant.