Enough White Lies Can Scorch The Earth

I've Always Been Interested In Writing From The Perspective Of An Outsider.

Now I’m Just Standing Here On The Conveyor. Along For The Ride. I Reach The End, Turn Around, And Go Back The Other Way. The World Has Been Distilled. Being Dead Is Easy. After A Few Hours Of This, I Notice A Female On The Opposite Conveyor. She Doesn’t Lurch Or Groan Like Most Of Us. Her Head Just Lolls From Side To Side. I Like That About Her. That She Doesn’t Lurch Or Groan. I Catch Her Eye And Stare At Her.

I Crush Her Against Me. I Want To Be Part Of Her. Not Just Inside Her But All Around Her. I Want Our Rib Cages To Crack Open And Our Hearts To Migrate And Merge. I Want Our Cells To Braid Together Like Living Thread.

I Adapt To Things Quickly, Including Good Things, Which I Wish I Could Shut Off Sometimes. My Friends Have To Keep Reminding Me How Crazy My Life Has Become, And Then It Hits Me Fresh And I Just Slap My Forehead And Think, "wait, What... ?"

It's Hard To Take Your Life So Seriously When You Can See It All At Once.