That is all.
Chapter 1: moreso
The girl had only one inconsistent lover. We will call him by the name of ‘W.’ Why ‘W’? Because it is the first letter of the word ‘window’ and the girl had placed heavy significance on not only the word, but its image. ‘W’ had seen into her soul that one night without even knowing she had drawn the blinds of her eyes. How did this happen–the unconscious drawing of the blinds that allowed ‘W’ to see past her mere flesh? The thought rotted her insides, hollowing them until she was suddenly overcome by an immense hunger, one she has never felt before in her life. She longed to fill that hollowness with his sight.
She wanted his eyes to ravage her entrails, scan her fleshy pink walls, know every inhale of palpable nerve endings and the exhales of her eyelashes, to map the infinitude of rivulets and streams sent by her rapidly beating organ. She wanted fingertips. His fingertips. She wanted them to trace her. Scratch her. Mark her. To become the clay to transform in his palms. To be molded. Shaped. Torn and pressed together again. Torn and to remain torn. To get underneath his fingernails. To be eaten accidentally. To disintegrate and become part of the wind that would graze his hair as he traversed nature. She wanted to feed the birds with her bits and pieces.
These tangents frightened her. How her mind could so easily deconstruct her immediate reality at the mere thought of ‘W’. This left her with an even more frightening amount of disillusions (disillusions which she found pleasurable to pick up, one by one, string them together left and right, some too close and others too far away.) And this is precisely why I have given birth to this girl. Her name? Avian. Bird-like. These thoughts escaped the orifices of her body like loose papers by an open window, scattering into the open black sea.
NEW HEADPHONES, coz this betch lost her other ones… again. :x