Exstreame Perverseions

I thought I had renounced them, but they've come back. They were knocking forlornly at the back door in the middle of the night, so what else could I do but let them in? Wouldn't you have done the same? I mean there's far too much fear of each other these days, and what harm could a few half-finished semi-poetic morsels do? Mostly they were cold and hungry and just wanted each other's company, and a cup of tea and a wee morsel of buttered toast. True, they were annoyingly self-centered and kept muttering their very modest glimpses of their very narrow take on what they mistook for reality. But are any of us really that different? We talk to ourselves about this and that, and plan incrementally and subconsciously our glacial steps toward world domination all the while putting on a good show in trying to pass for normal when in fact chasms full of monstrous demons and volcanic eruptions churn within us. Or maybe not. There are more than a few of us who yearn to return to some vegetable form and are just barely tolerating the whole whoop-de-doo of mammalian life. So here we are. Words before words and words after words. Thankfully though, not quite drowning out the very restful, and blessed, and alternately luminous and dark, silence.

Pages: 125, Paperback, Independently published