Nor because . . . her heart used to beat listlessly like a dryer. Inedible jelly slowly gathers in a slimy puddle between her legs. The searchlight remains focused on the pulsating stream of naked, pink worms crawling upon her wide op-en genitals. She has grown bigger in the past hour or so.
Nor because . . .
The most obscure of her deeds had a purpose. Her frozen pupils . . . conceal nothing. The absence enclosed in the broken witnesses of light will eventually deteriorate into a double hollowness. Two nights ago she was serving three glasses with transparent ice cubes. How transparent were they . . . Were they transparent enough to conceal any minor suspicion about . . . Did she play with the naughty little bubbles clinging to the sides of her glass? Or maybe she was amusing herself with the pale pink lipstick print she left at the edge of the glass. Not much left on her semi-open lips. Cold blue . . . The shadow of her lips has fallen silent. The scent gives off stronger and less subtle smell.
The intimate beauty of the flesh is unhindered by the absolute stillness. Anonymous indifferent mass, resembling something I haven’t known well . . .
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