Beyond

I hate sweets. I vomit it up with my intestines wrapped around my neck like a detective web. I'm trying to drown out the sugar with gum. I chew it until my jaw and fucking skull are rubbed into your favorite, soft and light sugar powder .. I am that liquid part of your consciousness. I flow out like cloying pus, which beats into the convolutions of the brain. Just like the filling in your cheesecakes. I am the part of you that you guess with amazing deduction. Like my swinging a bat at the victim's skull, you're trying to extract me like a memory card from yourself. I walk around Los Angeles. I count the last days. I hate everything about myself. All mine is yours. Your hair, your gray sweatshirt slumped over your slouch, your blue jeans and your ugly, dirty lack of shoes. .. my only red eyes. The sunset illuminates them. Numbers and names are like a deadly halo over people's heads. I hate them too. Swing the bat.