BURNT OFFERINGS...AND CIRCUS MIDGETS
Small strands of black hair clung to her sweaty cheek and trailed across her parted lips as she slept. Her slender fingers moved in concert with her dreams, playing onto the stage of her dark visions. A large tattoo of the crucifixion spread like a sea of ink from the small of her back to the top of her shoulder blades, always in contradiction to her beliefs
..But Nadia had forever been an enigma unto herself, her family and her friends. The visions that unfolded before her since childhood spoke of the world of the dead, and the ones who filled the night sky. But she more than always let the dreams fester inside her like a deadly cancer
..Growing, consuming her until she screamed and lashed out at the world around her.
The overhead fluorescents were becoming like Satan’s sunbeams as they penetrated the darkness of her closed eyelids of dark violet intrusion. What was the thing that beset the chain, the chain that brought her to the brink of an everlasting sleep? The light became dingy yellow as she moved more towards acquaintance with its substance. And as it registered in her ravaged mind. She felt like it was the devil digging within the cortex but slinking within its shadows only. She heard whispers of pain and distortion from dead blue lips snarled in cold gray concrete, begging for release.
Nadia’s voice was only a strained groan grating across a larynx that featured the poster child for atrophy.
The storm that once raged within now subsided, its eye centered along the parchment map of her torn soul. She looked out the bedroom window to witness a small glimpse of morning sun fighting to break through gray clouds, all seemed surreal as colors became muted and took on the vision of flickering celluloid. Her hands traveled along her stomach and down her thighs, she could feel the dried blood caked to her skin....Still feel the severed head with clinging vertebra working its way up her leg. She closed her eyes hard and tried to shake the nightmare, but small portions of the event still lingered. She got up from the bed and pulled the sheets along with her, rolling them up and throwing them in the corner of the room. The full length mirror in the bathroom gave her the full view of the horror in detail.....The dried blood from toe to waist, bruises just visible where the spine had clung to her too tightly.....The blood that surrounded her lips where the phantom had kissed her. It almost felt as though she had raunchy sex with a sadist boxer during the peak of her menstrual period. She reached down and turned the shower handle to full hot and rallied under its stream, it only felt lukewarm. But it was better than dead cold.
Her buttocks was large, larger than life. Then in a sudden epiphany she realized she was Kim Kardashian, and also that there is a possibility that not all men desire a humongous butt.
The dream diminished,she indeed did not break the internet, but only wounded it.
A beloved friend who died in a fatal car crash in 1925
Sacred and Profane