Found this disturbing message, scrawled upon a slightly soiled napkin, folded up and tucked into my front right breast pocket after leaving my jacket in a hospital locker.
TOO MUCH INFORMATION… by Den Ghostliven.
Certain sounds function as triggers. Fingernails scratching a blackboard. A child’s terrified scream. Noises like these breed dread. Hairs standing on end, sick to the pit of your stomach.
Other auditory stimulation causes the complete opposite. Noises positively charged. Intensely erotic. The squeak of leather stretched across flesh. The moist smack of lips kissing.
For me, it’s the purring rip of a zipper undone. It signifies a beginning, the peeling and revealing of things hidden.
Here, in the mortuary, the porters bring another body bag. A banana, waiting to be skinned, sweet treat waiting inside.
I open it up.
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