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Lost Bride's picture
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I can feel them now.

Dark, sticky, oily tendrils inside my hair.
Are those... wires, perhaps? Or the remnants of a dream?
Every time I resurface from the murky pool of shared memories, more of them seem to latch onto me.
I can see the filth gathering in the corner of my eye, with worm-like tentacles already oozing from under my eyelids.

The goo. It's pouring from within. I can't stop it anymore.

Is this what I'm really made of? Silicon, spin-woven filaments of calcium, a coat of carbon... they are all rotting away into this... thing.
My insides are just a tumorous knot. My lungs can barely move now. The heart is still in there, somewhere. But it's weak. 

My ears are throbbing with the strangest of sounds: it's like a scream, played in reverse. 

My arms twitch. I seem to be floating in water. Exposed, naked.

I feel like a doll.
A sex doll.
A virgin sex doll.

The water is murky. Mind is too numb to think. And yet, a thought arises.
I am thinking about him. He was fine. Elevated. Sublime. He was never mine.

The water in the tank feels cold. My vision is getting blurry. 
I close my eyes, grateful for this moment when I felt in control of my thoughts, if not my body.

There is nothing left. I wonder...

 

... am I strong enough, wise enough, tough enough to finally...

...love myself.

 

not secure

 

...or what's left of me.

Comments

Joe Spivey's picture

Sounds like Hyle on a typical Sunday morning :)

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Subdane's picture

((Thank you for sharing.

I miss the times from our little community  Thank you for the stories and time shared. 

Vekthaur's picture

(( I miss my poor Lost Surprised

Vekthaur.



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