Blackmagic Pocket Cinema Camera_1_2016-0

You didn’t make eye contact, when you slid your Vaseline covered glove covered finger across the top edge of the bottom lip of my mouth. Dispersing all the blood that was starting to pool. Your eyes focused on your actions. But the fatty gel came as a relief. 


Stuck in my seat. Floating just above they vinyl. Certainly not on the edge of fight, but possibly drifting towards flight. My eyes fluttered to follow yours. Trying to breach your confidence, anticipate your next move.  You didn’t make eye contact, but in a steady voice asked if I was okay. 


I hate you. But I trust you. I hate that I hate you and force myself to let go. 


Your fingers entered my mouth. I knew it was coming. I lean my head back and try to let go. 


Eyes shut. And the afterimages dancing on my eyelids, I can see the blood pushing through these tinny little veins. This flap of skin is now transparent, yet mirrors into my skull.  I can hear you slowly chipping away at my body. Drilling through my bones. Vibrating through the bottom of my eye sockets, shaking in their shells. 


Pushing out and out and out and ouuuccccchhhh


I’ll swallow all your metal. Just you watch.