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I live for two hours, five hours, bite to bleed. A cryogenic coma until we begin. Arguing in vain with the town around me, over nothing able to be justified, and he and I don't care; reveling in the confusion of the tri-city area— drowning our egos and taking our time until we truce with razor smiles; shift to removing tongues with pliers in our words. (living amputation and too much diet coke) Shouted disclaimers spread to the rest of the state, in case they never wondered how it feels to watch a living heart exposed. He gleamed gold with self-confidence as he cracked his knuckles. "I'd like someone to hit me, y'know?" Next to him, Tallahassee rolls her eyes, Tampa looks away. (I catch his stare. Deo gratias. Deo gratias. Father, Son, and Violent Thoughts.) Thank God, I whisper, and I am yelling. He is split from throat to hip and I drain his open truth. Speaker static shifts the room, podium to floor. This isn't over, he says, and we laugh because nothing we ever say can be proven, and we intend to prove it all.
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Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 8:37 PM UTC
Synaesthesic Mafia
I live for two hours, five hours, bite to bleed. A cryogenic coma until we begin. Arguing in vain with the town around me, over nothing able to be justified, and he and I don't care; reveling in the confusion of the tri-city area— drowning our egos and taking our time until we truce with razor smiles; shift to removing tongues with pliers in our words. (living amputation and too much diet coke) Shouted disclaimers spread to the rest of the state, in case they never wondered how it feels to watch a living heart exposed. He gleamed gold with self-confidence as he cracked his knuckles. "I'd like someone to hit me, y'know?" Next to him, Tallahassee rolls her eyes, Tampa looks away. (I catch his stare. Deo gratias. Deo gratias. Father, Son, and Violent Thoughts.) Thank God, I whisper, and I am yelling. He is split from throat to hip and I drain his open truth. Speaker static shifts the room, podium to floor. This isn't over, he says, and we laugh because nothing we ever say can be proven, and we intend to prove it all.
I know the rhythm is off but this is a super rough draft. anyways. it's is about this dude Orlando who I'm in class with idk he's pretty cool we're friends
miriamblaylock
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Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 8:37 PM UTC
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