Words in the Afternoon
The desire to wrap myself in wire is there, like a pulling animal upon a leash. Grasping firmly the end of a spool of barb, their little ancient pricks sliding into my flesh like the soldiers with tin hats entangled by them long ago. Wrapping, with each pass a point out for every point inwards. A grimace, "I'm fine" when it is all done, lips pulled back to make my face the likeness of a skull.
Recently was the first time anyone worried about me enough to come visit when I hadn't asked them to. A silly thing, really, as I was fine, but endearing nonetheless. I feel the clammy sick feeling of being poisoned again, and wonder why I do it.
I phoned just to hear a voice, but got none. Perhaps then to rest for now; a nap may be in order.