cut   I'm in school but it is sort of a big pile of junk on a flatbed truck being pulled down a road lined with palm trees. It's a tall pile of junk. There's an elevator in it that goes somewhere else, like classrooms that exist in some other spatial plane.

I'm sitting at a computer and it beeps and suddenly I'm trying to leave urgently, get away, and there are a bunch of kids on the elevator and this girl I went to school with grabs me and pushes me into the elevator and then there are no kids in it, just this guy who looks really familiar.

The doors close behind us, and he smiles and starts talking to me and I put it together that he wanted to get me alone to talk. He's tall and has black hair that is sort of curly and a little long, he's wearing a hat... I see scars on his upper inner arms, I touch them and say 'What is that? What does it say?' and the slashes arrange themselves into japanese looking characters.

Smiling, he says 'Yes, I speak Japanese' as though he's heard what I was thinking and he takes off his glasses and I think 'His eyes don't look Japanese,' and then he puts them back on. I sit down. We aren't in the elevator anymore, but back behind the huge pile of junk on the truck. He pulls up both of his sleeves and now instead of smooth, white skin they're covered in pairs of thick metal strips that look like they're bolted into the bones. He opens one set as though they're window shutters and blood pours out of a gaping wound. He opens more of them, and more blood pours out, dripping wetly on the floor. He pulls his shirt up and says 'This one hurts the most, even though it is the smallest,' and where his navel should be is a bloodly slit.

My right ankle starts to ache and I look down and there's a bleeding gash across it. I think, 'This wound has opened in sympathy for his,' and then I worry that some of his blood will get in my wound and I'm getting up to go and he takes a razor blade and slashes open his left eye and I scream and I want to help him but I can't bear to look and I run out of the area through piles of trash and duck into a restaurant, dodging the hostess who tries to stop me and run into the bathroom. All of the sinks, toilets are full of gargbage so I can't use anything. I leave, go back into the street and get on the truck bed and Kyle is there, looks really upset.

The guy with the cuts is dead. Kyle tells me it was his brother. He's crying and I feel responsible for this guy's death. I wade through people sitting around and stumble across his body and it looks slashed to ribbons, blood everywhere, and I understand that he killed himself. I bump in to two women dressed in saris carrying dozens of marionettes that resemble starving African children. They drop some of the dolls when I run into them and I stop to help gather them up and they're real tiny kids and they're sick and in pain.

Then SS is there and MK and they're talking about the dead guy and MK seems trashed... he's walking down a hall without pants on, shitting everywhere and I'm trying to get away from him and not get any on me. I duck into a room that is too small, a closet maybe and he stumbles in after me and falls at my feet, breathing hard. (2006-09-06)
posted by yzzordorex on 2006-09-06
post a comment
Please enter your user info for security.
(no HTML allowed):