|
|
Safe within my mother’s womb, I harness all that is available in reach of my catatonic state. I am an ambiguous corpse. I live and yet I am not alive. I am completely dependent on the life of another. I greedily and thoughtlessly consume all that is indirectly handed to me that is needed for her: My Mother. My life. My coffin. How can she live? Is she blissfully paralyzed inside another being? Does this lifestyle apply itself to every living thing? Does the coppery, metallic stench of the carmine blood eventually feed everyone’s lungs so willingly and takes away from the producer? Am I slowly, subconsciously surrendering my life away to a lifeless being inside me?
I kick in abrupt anxiety; my miniscule heart is so overly engorged with blood and adrenalin that I can feel it within my chest, between my teeth, sputtering down my chin. In turn, the infrequent beat of it kicks me, and I unknowingly lunge forwards. The strength of it bewilders me. This is the being. This is the thing that greedily devours my newly induced source of life. Does my usage of the power only provoke it more?
I kick again, and again the life force within me for a split second tugs slightly on my heartstring. I vow not to move and to observe carefully the differences there are between now and my outburst before. I feel everything I couldn’t feel before: my pupils dilating in the lingering suspense, my nostrils flaring, my lids flickering. Breathe. Again, only less pronounced, I feel the thumping tug again.
The being is pulsating within the cage of my insides. Its excretion trickles down the sides of my mouth through the bubbly saliva. I taste it. This is mine. My sweat. My blood. My life.
I laugh to the point in which I want nothing but to cry and live off of my own tears. I taste the salty drop quivering on my bottom lip. I wince when it reaches the tip of my tongue. I know this taste; mine again! I clamp my upper jaw entirely over my bottom lip and reap it of the liquid it had allowed to rest so vulnerably a top itself. You belong to me! I was seconds away from losing this drop of my very own essence. And, in pure irony, I watched through a glossed, drunken gaze as I involuntarily blink away even more pieces of myself; running down my faces soaked veneer.
Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t leave me, I chant to myself. And, as I begin to hate myself for what I have wasted throughout my life, I see a light at the end of the tunnel.
* * * * * * * * *
I am born.
|
1
Tags
You must be logged in to add tags.
|
Writer Profile
S
This user has not written anything in his panorama profile yet.
|
Comments
Brilliant txt, but Victor Oriwa | Dec 3rd, 2008
Excuse me S de C. I'm struggling to catch your story. You are not simple. Honestly if I were to edit this work, I could have deleted your copy and rewritten the whole thing altogether. Imagine my cousin is right here asking me the meaning of carmine blood, is it blood of a camel?
You must be a TakingITGlobal member to post a comment. Sign up for free or login.
|
|
