Existence
Waiting, patiently, for the extinction of life, enclosed by arms and with fat, swollen lips. All of this assists in sensing the passage of time, those slow seconds hidden from the grooves of stiffened fingers, the dry whorls of the pointed tips. A lint-free tongue curls and sucks, perceiving the fixated men with their alabaster skin and piercing, glittering, eyes. This occurs acutely at 25 o’clock, on a night, one hundred and twenty years past. Existence, lost in the deserted streets, at midnight, plunges her sorrow into the dry bloom of soft tissue, the revelation commencing, when that blunt onslaught of aching anxiety ballooned beneath the membrane of her breast. She conceived that independence held her to account, a
nd demanded a ransom. It was abundantly clear that all the elegant equations that defined that life, were sadly wrong.