Sickness

Tell me a story. About happily every after. Nervous dolls with their hands sewn to their lips. And static atoms lost among a growing rage. The things unseen more powerful than casual observations. Tell me lies and I will believe them. For a little while. A chaff of comfort in a funneling darkness.

A bridge built suddenly from nothing. Still spans the distance. As the water grazes across my skin. A clown without its nose. A hunter lacking bullets.

The morning coiled like an angry snake. Poisoned and sharp. By the volume of the notion. Ugly. Its jaw unhinged. To swallow whole the remains of hours I'd long ago dissected.

Desperate for a number to indicate. Truth in the map I'd laid. Weak with the squabble of stubborn skin. As I struggled needlessly out of my garments.

Always naked. Always small compared to the smallest of elements. Dangling from the second hand as it navigates the hours to come.

A curtain. A huff of stage. To reinforce her resolve. As she vomits up the dialogue.