AimlessToad

I’m afraid when I smile, something else might come out. A earnest attempt at joy morphing into a grotesque horror for others to reel from. My teeth lengthen clutching my lips like fingers, the desperation prying, crawling out of my mouth as others flinch in revulsion. They can see my spirit beg for connection, for acceptance as it contorts my body’s features in a mockery of their own exuberance. My lips pulled back too far, flesh stretched tight revealing yellowed bone and pink skin. One would regard a gaping wound more inviting than the pathetic pleading in my smile.

My memory warps, burns, eats itself. The threads of my memory slacken, tangle and snap. Severed cords of detail are cradled in my fingers as I weep for the loss. I pace in circles, rechecking every knot, every lash, but they unravel behind me. I clutch at what I can reach, holding them taut as i can, pulled close to my chest. It’s not enough. It will never be enough. I will fray and rot until I’m left with the whispers of the past lying in gnarled pieces at my feet. I wrap the last around my throat.