Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Morbid fascinations

When I look at a shiny crystal wine glass, or a bell bottomed decanter, my thoughts trace the sparkling lip and I think about biting into the glass. The most tempting are the whisper thin ones, the ones that feel like they would shatter if you merely toasted them too hard. Sometimes I wrap my hand around them and wonder how much pressure I could exert on it, before it shattered in my hand.

After I smell the sulphur trail from a freshly lit match, I toy with the idea of letting it burn right down to my fingers. When I look at the ember after the flame has gone, I feel like pressing the tiny cinder into my palm.

The sight of a desk fan draws my attention to my finger, and I picture myself halting its whizzing motion with my flesh. You might think that an industrial fan might not interest me, but those ones compel me to lose a whole arm.

I lose all sense of reality for a moment upon sighting a meat grinder. I ponder the sight of a horrific mess, if I had somehow gotten myself trapped inside. The little flecks of mince and fat look not unlike what my own would resemble, if I were not able to get out.

Feeling the rush of air from a truck or a bus, brings my thoughts to my lost footing, and the bone splintering smash that would result in falling under the wheels. A vortex of oncoming headlights blinds me, even though I know it isn't really there. The nightmarish and panicked face of the driver, burned into my retinas, as the last thing I see.

Driving along a dark highway with only the streetlights for companions, I think about a sneaky embolism. It srikes without warning, causing me to careen over the edge of an eerily lit length of overpass. Or perhaps simply a haunting seisure, freezing my movements until just before I hit the pillar...

2 comments:

  1. Intense and gripping! I felt pulled into your emotions. Great write.

    Marsha

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  2. Thank you Marsha, for your encouragement!

    ReplyDelete