Fluster (NAPOWRIMO 2015 #25)

Today I am flustered and so I must dive toe-down into dust and shatter the glass into a whole. No exit but a spiral. A spiral of the soul into gravity. With an axe on a pendulum swinging lower every minute. Into a turkey dinner and a glass of spoiled wine. I run against an open door, floating into the subliminal, into the neverworld: of daisies and shamrocks and tigers that dance the tap. No one knocks in but out. The walls move to squish. I prick my finger and I suck the poison out. Poisoned jellybeans or squid or mushrooms. The floorboards wiggle in tetris-fashion. The lights change to purple. The garbage bags chase me. I hang by a hook on a cliff and I’m about to let go.

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