I
Found a head lying in a pool of muddied water. it belonged to a child. she was only around 6 or 7 years old. her jaw broken in several places, bugs crawling in and out, feasting on her gums and softening enamels. her tongue was slowly breaching into a porous substance, swiss cheese. her face was something that i had seen in a dream when i was younger. quaint and idyllic with no worries then and no worries now. her soft rosy cheeks now pale in comparison to its previous youthful, liveliness. her soft skin dirtied with soot and moss, soft to the touch but feeling somehow devoid of anything other than a slight rubbery quality.
II
Stabbing the porcelain blade into a small child’s forehead, attempting to find the light of God within an innocent youth, creating new messages and striving for a form of rational communication where none could be found. Animals. Decadent animals.
III
Liked it better when you stayed in my head, where you understood exactly what I said, and there was no fear or uncomfortable sentiment that perforated the atmosphere that we breathed. You were a haze, a pulsation of the heart, firing of the synapses, conjuring what you were to me. You were a perfect friend, but I could never touch your ambiguities with mine.
