Interruption Reinvented

Pitcher full of kool-aid. Blood red. Drink it up, let it out. 5, 10, 15 times. Concern. Gulp, gulp. The blood is gone. Plastic and porcelain meld together. We’re taking a trip. Red and bloody. Moving towards something. My friend, I must kill him. Carbohydrates no, glucose no, sugars no, proteins no, fats no, beta cells yes. Terminated. Thirst. No water. Where is the water? What have I done? Pancreas. Autoimmune reaction. Diabetes mellitus. Insulin trickles into oblivion.

Time slipped into darkness, light into hours. Murky corner. I cannot feel my midsection. The life of all hinged un-lubricated on the doorframe. The shades part, a boy is lying in a bed, resting on the ceiling. A blue-headed monster walks in. He takes off his head, just a normal guy. Reincarnated garbage spews from his mouth. Light passes.

Empty. A female comes in. She gives the boy in the bed on the ceiling a blue head of his own, along with something for his ears. He listens. Happy, content. Several blue-headed monsters rush in and rip off the boys head and ears. They don’t know he kept his hands. He cries. Sad, afraid. Darkness passes.
It is then I look around and notice that I am a wall clock in the corner of the room. I realize that I have no midsection, and that the ceiling is really the floor. It’s a hospital in the year 1991. Tick-tock. I rewind myself. Time slinks over the horizon.

Years pass. Ceiling fans spin. Torturous obligation. The finish line is obscured. Needles, test strips, blood. There’s the clock. Time slips into darkness, light into hours.

© Nate Phillipps 2008