She held the crumpled up water bottle caked with dirt and other decay like the steering wheel of a car she might never have had who knew who asked who cared? Who bothered? Many bothered bothered her, but not about anything pertaining to her travels and her many imprisonments her pauses her stucknesses the reasoning of those who bothered her those who never bothered about anything else pertaining to her only to their appetite for appetites.
Where did she imagine she was going or doing or where she thought she was? A ruined village that was more underneath the Earth or elsewhere she was reaching somewhere the point where she wouldn't have to know if she was going again. Skin had its way for others to have theirs and with it being broken so many times you'd think it would reach that point but it always knows when the rest of it all slithers nearby around the cracked toilet of someone's mind.
"I think I'm going to be sick."
"I thought you've been sick for some time."
"I have just I'm going to be really sick."
"Then say really sick why don't you? I mean really."
"Do you? Really? Seeing to it that you overuse terms doesn't make you the measure of sincerity."
"I was thinking about that not that vomiting."
"I was recommending it for both."
"I could turn around and throw up on you and watch if any industrial acid burns a crater into your crotch."
"Zombie fantasy #116?"
"#86. I'm still counting on my next diabetic seizure to take me out before I get into the triple digits, but with this heat, I think I'm too late for that."
Fracture and terse
menagerie of affairs
within the enclosures of your skull
citations slice the tongue
taste is lost in a red sea
of forgetfulness and monotony
from study to anecdote
clothes become coffins
in the unpaved morgue
- Max Stoltenberg