the rotary tales, cuffed to scuff your posts

“i should have known better,” he said, and i thought, well, alright. he was speaking universally, but i created a novel and the dialogue suggested it was my turn to respond. how do i … i’ll do it better than anybody else, so don’t tell me how, actually. i’ll come up with my own recipe for infiltration. if you want me there, i’ll fill you up completely. i will wiggle inside the pores of your mind, and expand like a sponge. remember when you put your headphones on, pushed the play button, and listened to that song that made you invincible and invisible? other than the first few minutes of looking around to make sure it wasn’t loud enough to pipe through the synthetic fiber, you were disappearing. that. right there. i’ll do that for you. let me inside. let me ride along the synapses that make you react in the most mundane of ways. let me sweeten them with a little intoxical sugar, a dollop of my secret, elusive syrum. let me spread a sickness through you with the harem of my medicine bag spilling all over your innards. here i am, riding around inside of you as you drive your car to work, go to the grocery store, scowl at the television selection, make your thin slice of steak, bake your potatoes, watch the media; even when you hate my guts and distrust me, i’m in there, indifferent, sliding up and down the cord with my legs spread. you don’t know the pleasure your nothings give me, until i find some random crest, like when you finish shoveling the snow from your driveway, panting, exhaling, and i finally erupt as a fond memory. that’s when i’ll hear from you again.

1 thought on “the rotary tales, cuffed to scuff your posts

  1. I’m certain you’re right. No one would ever stay away from you for long.

    Your opening is so right on—the way we turn a blanket statement into a novel of meaning.

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