Something I had to write for class
I infectiously inhale the thick nicotine ridden vapor from my cigarette as my mother breaks the news about how some neighbor so and so died and how it was all so inadmissibly tragic. I exhale the yellow smoke from my nostrils and watched as the eerie tendrils float across the family room. My mother had not attempted to make
any changes to the space in over fifteen years. Has it been that long? Has time and space spread so far from the center?
I gaze torpidly towards the front yard where a collection of nine or so amoebic beings rapidly transgress into multiple celled organisms in a single bound. In the moments that I sit a mindless sentinel these life forms evolve into small human beings heads the shapes of cones flesh puckered and pink shiny and reeking with primordial ooze. These shapeless hollowed eyed monsters begin a ballet. As they dance a
neural tube flattens and a bulge forms and pumps rhythmically as red inlets run the length and width of the fleshy blob. The ground beneath them is infested with their deposits. On and on they dance so that with each urgent step another piece of them comes into existence. A soft fur covers the space between their thriving limbs and is covered with soft dew from the morning rain. I can smell their scent from here. Hormones pheromones estrogen testosterone hydrogen peroxide methane. My mouth is dripping at the corners for one small taste of their innards. I blow nicotine clouds in their direction my breath
catching their dew sparkling in the atmosphere dampening warmth from somewhere inside. They lift their large membranous faces and slither towards me tripping and dripping of strangeness. In the flowerbox they begin to copulate thrusting rapidly hungrily. The earth beneath them gives way to copious gleaming lips swallowing them whole while they take no pause in their fornication.
And it reminds me of you and me and those brief moments in Paris. Paris, Texas. How our eyes met across a pile of fecal matter and you smiled. And we took up the haystack and reached and reached until we found the source of our malcontent and then plummeted back down to earth. Where amidst the cattle you made promise of blissful days and thousands of virulent offspring. And I curled up inside of you and opened your doors to drink your miasmic nectar. Then you left me in the scorching Texas sun among the weeds to find the tower. The lone star never felt so singular.
I wake up six feet underground and light a cigarette. Decomposition begins worms feed on extremities getting high on my acetyl methyl furan. In a truck stop across the Interstate 10 strangers toast to my death with tire greased burgers half and half roasted beans acid reflux and Tums. Highways lonely cowboys cover their aorta with their mesh trucker caps and lament my memory while mosquitoes couple towards the blue light in extreme euphoria and a nine banded armadillo tries to make it across the highway and another cowboy stops to pay his respects. And as I sucked on my cigarette I thought about how we’d all soon be lifeless corpses riddled with maggots and worm shit pretending we all have an eternity that is somewhere else other than in this wooden box reeking of disintegration not affecting anything more universal than a single grain of dirt.