Erasing All Mouths
In quasi sleep the screen liquefies into morbid lucidity. The walls cave inward and the contents of my body fold like miniature books written in languages lost and gone from us. You sit across from me pretending to be a Tuvan throat singer steering this dark night like a ship with only the vibrations from your clattering rib bones.
My arms go numb from the shock of your voice. The digits on every hand in this black hole are terminal and delete all unwanted messages from our gray matter. Your words slowly disintegrate to silence. I am a censure riding a centaur erasing all mouths; erasing all sound waves as if it were my god given right.
I do this because it all hurts too much. I am drowning in false realities bred from the loins of my fantasy. In the end I am wet and limp and outdated. There is no way to return to the original me, no way to know who that ever was. Your throat tells me this. It tells me what I have erased from your tongue.
Aleathia Drehmer
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