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Electricity. Static. Sunlight doesn’t really hit my eyes anymore. Gray matter. The gray matter is everywhere. Linking everything. Seeping into everyone. There is so much gray that my hands feel tied behind my back by the gray. It’s painful. No getting away. Before... before there was no gray, and my hands weren’t tied. I used them to shield my eyes from the sunlight. I wish I hadn’t. I wish I had reached out and touched something significant. Felt something significant. Tasted something significant. Now I only taste metal. I taste it with my teeth; feel it slowly seeping through the body I have left. I can taste the change in the world, and I think I’m weeping. For what is. For what was. Because there was so much. I try to make sense of it now. There’s nothing else left to do in the grayness. I try to make sense of the sunrise, of grass, of you, of me, of laughter, of warmth, of another body against mine, of passion, of the end of it all. It doesn’t. It doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t have to. So don’t force it to. Be blinded by light. Be lost in another person. Be touched by warm hands. Be fearless before the grayness comes. Before the metal oozes out of your pores the same way tears used to. Before your hands are tied.

Electricity. Static. It hits me over and over again. In my eyes. In my teeth. In my breasts. Until all I can taste is metal.

Created: Jul 31, 2012


Ilze Document Media