Beams of bright colored lights move swiftly through bodies. They take in and take out. The stuffy air sticks to the skin. The stream of consciousness is dulled by the everyday same. I came to get it out. The dance-- I knew, it would revers the charms, and instead of what I set out to be, I would be the human: the sweat, the language of the muscles, the smudged make up, the mess, the truth. The truth of the body.
I melt into the rhythms. The brain hypnotized. The beat pulsating. The laser scanning. Lazer playing.
A tight grip around my waste. I feel the closeness that takes me. I smell bodies. A craze and I shake my head. I’m still dancing, but I feel like I’m about to be close to burning. It seems like I’m going to get to know you. I feel like I have to run again. Away, away, away, into my own space.
My own space is dark and warm. It seems like mold could easily take roots in a place like this. But what else?
I’m walking through a house I have never been in before. There are so many floors, so suburban with that beige carpet I can’t stand. I notice some masses in the distance. I get closer and I realize these are dismembered bodies at my feet. Flies crawl on the open flesh. I run. When I find myself close to the exit I enter another room. The final room seems to be a long and narrow conference room. There is no way to just slip out of the room. How? Im trapped. The door is a couple of steps away across the table, but in front of the door, at the head of the table sits my dad. He seems to be occupied with the meeting.
I’m walking through a house I have never been in before. There are so many floors, so suburban with that beige carpet I can’t stand. I notice some masses in the distance. I get closer and I realize these are dismembered bodies at my feet. Flies crawl on the open flesh. I run. When I find myself close to the exit I enter another room. The final room seems to be a long and narrow conference room. There is no way to just slip out of the room. How? Im trapped. The door is a couple of steps away across the table, but in front of the door, at the head of the table sits my dad. He seems to be occupied with the meeting.
My head hurts. He is the head of the table. How? Im trying to understand the secret of his head. I realize he knows the secret to life. That is why he has all these people listening to him. I can’t bear it anymore so I speak. “I know there are bodies upstairs. You are using them to replace your old body parts, so your time never runs out.” He smiles and continues on talking to the rest of the group that seems to be hypnotized. I scream: “NO. YOU LISTEN TO ME!” The men in suits at the table turn towards me. My father steps up to me and pulls me aside. He tells me to drink something. I refuse. He forces it down my throat. I choke. I grow. I deform. I’m not like everyone. Everyone sees me as another. Everyone does not believe my words anymore. Any more is a constant pain. Any more is too much. He tells me at the end “silly! you’ll always be a part of me. I have your liver.”
The pain.
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