The filth of their mouths coming at me like a stereo intrusion. Many times I’ve come to ignore the lavish colours they leave behind, But this day was different.
A clear sign of something new enters my vision and off sets the TV glaring at me like neon candy lights.
Green reflection on my lips. Spreads to my eyes and a smear of red down my chin. I’ve caught a virus. A flu? Blood is present. I get up repeatedly through out the night only to my embarrassment the next morning i see red all over my face. There is lipstick in my bed, a broke faux eyelash on the pillow and your jeans over the chair, It will be another challenging day.
A dark morning, later November:
Shadows cast on my figure and draw a line to the bedroom door. I see a small note taped to it. It says something about meeting me around 8pm. “Sorry to be gone when you wake up.” I never see it coming.
But I miss the silence.
This story is written to the mood of my prints titled “Filth” Basically it’s the text version of what you are seeing.