on her own time.
she couldn't think of anything better to do, after drowning herself in a heroin bath, so she just did the first thing that popped into her mind.
after shooting up in a porno store parking lot, wishing she had the means to take care of a stray cat or dog (she doesn't have a place; she doesn't even have personal space), wanting a friend, she smelled a scent that she never knew.
it cut through the stench of piss and shit that stains her body and this city.
it cut through her short sighted dreams and her loneliness.
it cut.
it cut deep into her senses.
her anatomy.
carving her up until she was single minded without any future plans or purpose.
he reminded her of someone she used to know with more direction, moral fiber, and a will to live.
he walked by. she chased. she caught him. and explored his naked body with a rusty crooked switchblade plunging it into all of the places she felt pain in her own body. drinking it in. that scent. that aroma.
she slept with him for nights, not even noticing the hours roll by, lost inside his dreams. lapping it up, while looking deep into his sunken eyes. knowing nothing in life is permanent except a beginning, a middle, and ending. as the scent that made her feel something nice dissipates. knowing it can't be preserved. she takes a pair of scissors, snips his tongue out and sews it to hers because she's tired of the sound of her own voice. she gouges his eye out with an ice cream scooper, and replaces her eye with his because she wants to see what he saw. she chops her hand off with a cleaver, than his, and sutures it to the bloody stump on her arm with a needle and thread so she can feel what he felt. and with a pair of pliers plucks the fingernails off her remaining hand, then does the same to his, gluing hers to his and his to hers so she will understand how he used to scratch the napes of his former lovers necks, just like she used to do to her own.
she forgot to take her medicine today, which makes her think of all the lovers that never loved her.
she looks up.
the sky is starless tonight, and the hum of television sets projecting late night talk shows to people sitting alone in their apartments creates a soothing lullaby that is putting her to sleep.
it's two am on a tuesday night.
it's last call.
with her head down.
she has switched off safely.
both are still there and won't be discovered for a couple of days.
before the service before the papers. the interpretations by other people.
you can check it out for yourself if you want, but for now let's leave it alone.
it's time to rest.
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