3813
testing testing
Nov
4
bloody hallucinations
I don't want to write about me anymore
I'm boring
Not fucked up enough
People talk to me. I know this is happening because their lips move and their flesh covered skulls bob up and down. He hands me the pint and I realise I have forgotten what should happen next.
His eyes are funny, too turned down, too far apart, his entire face is trying to escape into his cheekbones. Perhaps his forehead will peel like old wet wallpaper and there will be a new him revealed, lighter, brighter, fresher, with skin like a baby's bottom. Maybe I can effect this change.'Cillit Bang.' I say it so loudly and abruptly that he starts … starts to peel away. At first it is a filmy substance, like the glaze of an eye, it wafts through the air and settles on the surface of the bar, sticky and glistening. I had always thought that the smears were spilled beer and greasy handprints, but now I discover that it is human slough that createss the organic sheen. His droopy eyes are still smiling indifferently. He thinks I can't see what is happening to him, how his skin is liquifying and sliding down his face.
His lips receed and his teeth begin to protrude grotesquely as his tongue dries and rasps over them. His eyes are turning to jelly, squishy lumps that shine. I lean over the bar and pluck one from his face and pop it into my mouth, it squelches against my teeth before exploding into a mass of mucoid juice.
He is still smiling as black puss runs from his nostrils, his nose is collapsing, the soft gristle gives way until I can see the empty cavity of his head. He reaches up to scratch his ear, my staring at his disintegration is obviously confusing him, his ear flakes like a fillet of fish and smatters his clothed shoulder blades with fleshy dandruff. He shuffles uncomfortably and his other eyeballs drops from his skull, like a pulpy marble, and plops onto the floor, he is now looking at me out of empty holes and I can see his rapidly liquifying brain.
'Will there be anything else?'
I shut my eyes slowly and when I open them again he has been reconstructed.
'No, no thankyou.' I stutter, and he moves off to serve another customer.
