Kings and Pillars

She was wearing the mattress one person at a time. Like a borrowed lollipop. A giant condom. Herself what was left in it after everything else had been done.

Glad it was over.

She was undressing. As carefully as she could with such an audience. The future frowning. Disappointed at what she'd done to it. The past apologizing for what it had let her become. She was swimming. In little pills she liked to call coping skills. She was drowning in trying to live. And she was doing it so well.

She was watching television. Imagining herself in people that she had never been. Manipulating time like some vindictive addict. More Kirk than Picard as she told history to go fuck itself.

Turning it all. Every lie to her advantage. Erasing the moment with a dose of something stronger. Or at least a better friend.

People. Like shoe laces coming apart. She could bend down and remake the knot, but it would only come undone again. She could try to reason with the jesters. But it's their job to make a joke of us.