smelt like something I almost recognise stinging the back of my throat bringing up memories of something I don't understand I don't wanna get any closer, her hair will tickle my nose.
It's HAIRDYE. Her hair stinks of hairdye. I remember that time I coloured my hair to no effect. I wish my hair wasn't so dark. Then I could pour on a different identity every six to eight washes. I want to reach out and wring the red out of those curls. Blood-like swirls onto the bus floor. Fingers are itching in my pockets. She leaves before I lose control.
That urge tumbles in my mind and I grin. I like that image. I created an image. I could have wrung it out like a sponge full of paint. We drive past the archaeology site. All filled in. A few weeks ago there were pits and foundations and diggers and men. Now the ground is smooth. It saddens me but I don't know why. Futility.
My cousin had her baby. Healthy baby boy.
My finger is oozing this awful blood stuff. I woke up with it. What the fuck is wrong with you, body! Why must you destroy yourself when I am not looking.
Headache. Been up for too long. Talked way too much. Ice cream now. But it's the cheap kind. Tastes of ice.
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