but easier than you'd think. still, i can feel one of the more unwell aspects of my self sliding down into a defensive little ball, back against the wall, sullen & shaken & radiant with potential hysteria. everything is deserved here except release, which will most likely be taken by force at some point & so why wait?
waiting is.
a magnificent shiny black bumblebee met a grisly end this afternoon at my hands. well, it was my doing, my hands were holding only the trigger of the kitchen cleaner, pumping away until he flailed into the sink, at which point i finished him with hot water and dish liquid, yes i'm deadly with a variety of ordinary household products. a gangly spider behind the refrigerator was allowed to live, there had been enough carnage in that kitchen for one day. besides, my insecticidal rage is a big chickenshit & i was out of fantastik®.
& there will be no further attempts to mask the sounds of shattering. no word yet about my reasons for trying, insight into my own behavior being entirely inadvisable at this point, i'm betting the why is worse than the what by a long shot.
these words will self destruct the minute it hits me, & if i knew what i meant by 'it' i wouldn't be posting the bloody thing now would i?
fortunately none of this matters. i need to translate that into a dead language & have it inked where i can see it, yes?
