Neice

I watch as the boy steals glances, his face covered by 800 thread sheets and when i woke the latin boy would stroke my hair while I lay on his chest and whisper to me that it was time to kiss him. there isn't a sound in the world that could emulate your shoulders and the intricate lines that weave in and out along your spine. serotonin filled my fingertips and her fingers pressed against my throat, her belly touching mine, and her smile piercing my nostrils. the air was sharp and tinted reds and yellows. she runs, and the needles come crashing down, pinning her in a million places throughout her body. her taloned feet point one last time before she's lifted with the needles as they ascend back into their place. and just like he said i would, i slipped she says pushing her body harder into mine and snaking her hand around to the back of my head to take a handful of my hair and throw my head to the side so I can feel her lips and her warm breath against my ear. my eyes drift shut as I watch her body slide in stages off of the silver needles.

whisper, is this what ____ feels like?

she grins to me from her place two feet in front of me and beckons me with a flick of her foot against the floorboard. the wood instantly turns to glass where her foot touches. her hands delicately turn me so my back is to her and she moves the hair from the nape of my neck, her hands drifting to rest on my pulse.

whispers, shhh, baby, shhhhh, licks my ear.

my fingers crack open at the creases where my palms reach to meet them and reveal a canyon of sacs filled with clear liquid and little toy babies all waiting to grow. my eyes were numb and my ears rang as I ascended the stairs, hair sticking to my temples, the bones in my knees grinding against each other. my grandmother kneels in front of me, her eyes blue, face pointed like a fox, and takes my hands. she presses them to her chest and they sink into the firm skin that lies there, tearing a hole. she smiles and her mouth is filled with honey bees. they crawl out of the corners of her eyes, her ear canals, her nostrils. I retract my hands, cupping them as I do, and honey drips from my fingers and the various organs resting in my palms. she keels over and her head lands in my lap, her blue honeymoon dress soiling on the pavement.

babies were lined in rows on platters, each one in a different stage of decay; eyes hanging from sockets, skin as purple as a ripe bruise. someone bites, chews, and a grey eyeball hangs from a vein in his mouth. he smiles, and blood drips from his mouth onto his chest and veins layer his teeth, hiding the enamel completely. i look up and a ceiling mirror reflects what's happening on the floor below, men and women hunched over what could be a normal dinner ferociously digging into their meals , and notice a child walking toward me. when i look down, she's right in front of me, one eye focused on mine, and the other skewed to the floor. she lifts a bloody finger to her lips, opens her mouth and starts to scream.