Magpie

The shopping cart is empty and overflowing; rotting before we get it through the checkout. I think we should just buy vitamin pills and milky drinks and tell the kids that they’ll survive ok.

I’m chewing gum towards the exit, ignoring the cravings, staring ahead and I’m thinking about how much I want to fuck Duchovny these days, but it’s cool – we can deal with fiction.

We don’t need half-price anything, we’re done. We’re ready to sleep and lie down behind a slammed door again because it’s raining, finally.

The bags show more signs of decay before we can put them away. It’s already infiltrated with hormones and the Acute Mono-blastic crap that hurls itself from the pylons: The pylons that hum and vibrate dangerously in the rain. It keeps it all fat – and alive.

We eat the things that will last forever immediately – dried cherries and oatcakes. They’ll outlive us in our stomachs and stand up to the most rigorous pathological testing. I swallow lies while the truth deteriorates quickly in cold storage.

I don’t sleep. It’s a sin and a shame. I hear demonic voices and I can see the insides of my eyelids like the fires of Hell itself. This is an ancient map and we’ve been following it since dawn.

I refuse to recite a protection prayer that I don’t believe in. Flame - sparks - vomit and a projection of greed within an unholy sense of wanting. None of you could ever imagine, but I like to, over and over again. 

A magpie mind sees only winter rubies sparkling in the moonlight – flawless and softened.

I fail often, I am not clean.

White-out

Dark corners

Painted windows

Nothing

We need nothing

And want everything.

~ Charlotte Sometimes (SRWB) 2011