Buzz

I’ve imagined this scenario in multiple lives, the latest one cold and metal, other times fleshy and warm, cold and wet, bloody and humid, etcetera and etcetera. All throughout the same scenario played out similarly, exactly the same sometimes. We sit in a chair, and buzz about our problems, buzz buzz buzz, we buzz, buzz, buzz. Buzz. We begin to rot along with the world as the walk by, all we can do is buzz, no words, just buzz on about our problems and emotions. Maybe some brave and kind soul gives us a listen, but ultimately, buzzing. Buzzing until our eyes slowly drop out of our skull, hanging on by fleshy, stringy meat. Teeth black and yellow, with greed stained on our tongue, but we still, buzz, until our jaw falls off and into our lap. Atleast, that is the foreseeable future, until we can learn that we should not buzz, but instead whistle with the free birds, whistle to our heart’s content.

Good thoughts as such come and go and ultimately cycle through and help often. But, moments like this make my skin crawl. “We” “Us” “Our” I am me, they are me. I sit in a cold and metal chair, in an all white room. Before me hangs a figure, tied up by their feet, curled into a fetal ball, the entirety of the surface of their body coated in burns, scars, and fresh wounds, dripping onto the painfully white floor in front of me. The lip skin stretched back, and stapled to the side of their face past the point of expected elasticity giving way to an extremely unsettling set of perfect, pearly white teeth, an excess of flesh seemingly removed and reapplied to the eyes in the form of what seems to be a bloody and scarred blindfold. Industrial staples lining the middle of the skull, seemingly keeping it together. This monstrosity claims to be me, or atleast, to be with me, but the moment I accept these conditions, it tells me I am incorrect, and somehow the already inhuman and unnatural smile increases in size, though upside-down, still happens to unsettle me to the point of questioning my own rationale. This thing is a part of me, I had not put it to an image yet, but now that I have, I am less and more afraid of it. I can’t even help me, because, well it is me to an extent.

Remember, I’m the one I should love.