A morbidly obese woman has been sitting on my chest while savoring her sixth bag of Miss Vickie’s,
It’s been months since she’s been crushing my lungs
The lack of air is painful, but not as much as being drowned under a pile of rotting flesh
The stench on my inanimate body… Is it me?
I’ve been lying in a cage surrounded by clowns, exotic animals, sword eaters, fire throwers, acrobats, musicians, and the ringmaster
He lets them parade and circle the phenomenon in a devil dance where demons sing
The fire, the vivid shades of red and yellow while they rush around us
The crowd’s eyes are darkened by the spectacle
Am I on crazy pills? Is it possible circus freaks have surpassed important issues?
I don’t care anymore about dignity and revenge. I just need company. Include me.
I was going to tell a story, but now I am using evidence
Sense of decay
Sense of mortality
I write without fear of being vain.