revelations

A body lies on your bed. White haired, thin, thin lips drawn tight against the gums. Perhaps in pain. Perhaps in pleasure. You see its eyes. Their lids are veined, halfclosed. Clear fluids spill viscously from the corners causing stains to bloom on the sheet. Quietly, on either side of the head.

Its gaze seems to rest on the ceiling. A face shimmers on it like a watery reflection. It is white all over but for the eyes. Their blackness drips slowly onto the face below, vanishing upon contact. The body shudders. Its lips part, revealing dark tarstained gums. The mouth moves rapidly, overwhelmed by words. You take your recorder and push the red button. Eventually, the lips become still. You turn off the recorder and walk to your desk. You press ‘play’ and hear yourself repeatedly calling out your name.

insects

There are insects on the bathroom floor, coating it with slime and excrement. Black, quivering insects, trembling onward on a bed of goo. They chance upon beings thriving in the gaps between ceramic tiles. Some are eaten, pre digested. Others, with the smell of death on them, are left alone.
Buried in the insects’ animal unconscious is the notion of a place full of darkness, dirt and moisture, whose doors lie concealed beneath a tangled mass of skin and hair.
Across the tiles the insects quiver, leaving behind a tell-tale trail of slime and excrement.
As the insects approach their destination their bodies begin to harden. They burrow quickly through the clumps of hair and skin. They find the doors and slip through. And in the cool darkness of their underworld, they begin to feast on the filth of centuries as their bodies metamorphose.