Seven A.M., sleep slipped out from under me. The next forty-five minutes were occupied by ceiling staring in solitude, concluded with a sigh and a prolonged “fuck,” sheets thrown, shuffled shins making not quite haste to the restroom. I stared at my face in the mirror for what must have been five minutes. At eight o’clock we sang “Happy Birthday.”
Last night I dreamt of a pit in the middle of an open field unmarred even by starlight, stretching, twisting, bending, winding deeper and deeper and deeper and still by the moment. I stuck my gaze down into the infinite black.
Post-song and mid-”thank you, tha—” he began to tremble. For an hour he lied on the couch, telling us to “keep it goddamn down, I cannot hear my thoughts,” every syllable prone to a shudder. He insisted soon of his wellness (“It’s sort of like those twenty-four hour colds you can get, but not at all, really…”) and sprung forth from the couch, marred only by a slight flush in his face. As he reeled me in for a hug, I could only note he had the faint air of the sea about him.
I took a leap and — for what must have been days — careened, only for my freefall to be halted by a sudden, soft impact in a pit of some sort of squishy uncertainty. My fingers felt their way through the mush and began to make out the anatomy of whatever was surrounding me:
At six P.M. we cooked up his personal favorite, scoop after scoop of the stuff shoveled into his bowl. When he saw what was sat on his placemat below him he tossed our work wallwards and watched it shatter with a falsetto shriek pouring out of him, stomping and stomping until what once was fried rice was demoted to but a fine paste on the floor.
A hard (yet not inflexible) end;
Late. I wake in total black, so thirsty every groove within my crumbling throat is known. Fields of withered, barren meat stretching on for aeons inside of me. Cut to unsteady, sock-swaddled steps hushed only by caution, heel-toe rhythm infinitum atop every nigh-creaking board. Around the corner, to my ears comes a fluorescent hum. A thick, flickering slice of light stretches out from the cracked door in front of me. My father is bent over the sink, his once-tan skin now a bloated mauve. A gasping, wet hack spills forth from his gullet and he pulls forth a spit-soaked shrimp tied by salival cord to his tongue, quick to flick the wriggling morsel down the drain and carry on his merry way.
A cold and impressionable back;
What must be three P.M.: Awake. Outside of the window is nothing. No car in the driveway. No clouds in the air. No people on the sidewalk. No movement in the neighboring windows. No birds. Not even a breeze. A sharp pain in my gut; nothing inside of me, either. Hunger leads me out of the room and through the hall and down the stairs and around the corner and into the kitchen in search of: food. Heavy, savory scents curl about the air and find their way inside of me, holding me, moving me, guiding me with open arms. I’m not alone; somebody is cooking. At the other end of the kitchen, set upon the stove, my comfort curdles and dies. In front of me lies—
Two fine strings at the start of each.
A sole, shriveled shrimp atop the far end of the frying pan, shifting with such a fervor so as to stir the concoction contained within. Little, tiny grains of—
I in a pit of Fibonacci flesh, genetic perfection, a golden, true assortment of spirals ensconcing me in tandem.
Shrimp fact did you know the common crangon crangon shrimp pumps water through the gill cavity by use of what is called the maxillula pretty cool yes shrimp fact shrimps can talk they just dont wanna shrimp fact mantis shrimps have two main types sorted by their preferred means of combat smasher shrimps smash with their claws spearer shrimps stab with their pointy little mitts both shrimp cool dont mess with or kick you ass shrimp fact some shrimp can drive shrimp fact google images show me shrimp dot jpeg shrimp fact shrimp is perfect shrimp fact god experience universe through eye of shrimp shrimp fact rapture is purge of sinful flesh that bind us shrimp fact shrimp time shrimp time shrimp time shrimp time shrimp time.
Above me, more began to fall until there was nothing left to bury.
Shrimp time.