Sunday, June 10, 2018

Handker Chief

I hate it in here.
It's dark and wet. I'm wet.
I'm accompanied by things unworthy of my great heritage. The crumbled candy wrap, the coins of petty value, the surrounding lint and hair. A key amongst sesame seeds. Has this pocket ever been emptied?
Why did I end up here? I thought I deserved the world.
Because I haven't always been a napkin. No. I was made for more. I used to be proud and brave and ruthless. Once, I was a flag.

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Excerpts from the Sleepless Cycle - Candle

Some nights the chandlers would come.
They would take me in my sleep and do things on me.
Tied on a wooden altar, I could only stare at their bleak, static faces, as they scrutinized my body.
The one who doesn't speak, always cared for my perfect alignment against the altar. My hands touching my thighs, my knees and ankles touching together.
The one who never talks, carried a heavy, leather bag. The metallic tools contained within were carefully arranged along an invisible surface. Even though, I could not turn my head to look at them, I knew they were pointed at me.
The third one, the one who only smiles, she would just stay unmoving in front of my face. Eyeless and white. Like trying to distract me from everything about to happen.

Saturday, March 31, 2018

Excerpts from the Sleepless Cycle - Ants

Ants came while I was asleep.
They took my left eyebrow.
Carried over and planted all the hair above my right one. Now, I have just one big eyebrow. It doesn't feel right.
It's uneven. Asymmetrical. Odd.
I find myself leaning to my right side when I talk to people. They say nothing, don't even seem to notice it. But I know they're are either being polite or ashamed of my unfortunate face. All in all, I'd rather have their outright mockery, than a silent pity.
I don't know why the ants did that. Who told them to? Could it be the King of Ants, whom I've never heard about? The big shadow cast above my right eye blurs the answers.
One thing is for certain though, they're coming for my nostril hair next. They'll put it inside my ears.
That's why I filled them up with silicon. Insulation. That'll stop them. Trading some of my senses is probably worth them leaving me alone.
As for my nostril hair, it won't be easy finding it, while along with my nose, it's in the garbage can.
If only the blood would stop pouring on the paper, I would consider this a clean victory.

Sunday, March 11, 2018

Excerpts from the Sleepless Cycle - Hag

The night hag comes while I sleep. With her wooden ladle she eats soup out of my open head. She stirs my dreams and sniffs the vapors through her hairy nostrils.
That's why they're always whirling when I wake up, and only the bits she left I can remember.
I will find you witch. I will take my dreams back. I can shatter them myself, all but the same.