Forever
By birksy
Yes, I turned the iron off. The light was far too bright, The shadows, the clicks and whirr’s grew worse until my hand flicked up and off it went. Then, when my hand was wet, I watched as drops fell through the holes, where there’d been no holes. What strange tasks, deliberate with pain, it took no more thought than might. Again there was no sound or sensation. Recording, Playback the blue, the green the screams that come from me. I’ll hold whosoever is offered, proffered. Absurd this curse which complains so loudly in my ears. That iron was as hot as hell, now grown cold, with nothing but my hand. Written August 19th, 1997 © on Aug 06 2001 07:10 AM PST, Simon Birks 0 • 10
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"Yes, I turned the iron off...."