Soma, Chapter 4
I die.
Soma, Chapter 4: Things.
Bullet: Goes through my skin, right on the part where pop kissed me when I was four, a Desert Eagle .44, parting the Red Sea with chunks.
Skull: I feel two Desert Eagles on my head.
Air: Vibrating, interpreted as, I don't know, but it was two to the head bad. A voice in the vernacular.
Air: Vibrating, interpreted as, What'd I do? I ask, knowing. My voice, recognizable.
Hair: Dreadlocks, trying to wipe the tequila, blood, and oil off his head, like a woman, like the woman in the Bible, hoping that begging stops him. So thick it's not liquid. Or was that Jesus? Did Jesus wipe his hair, like a man, or was it the woman? Is that filthy concoction my perfume to this man?
Palm Tree: Explodes, a pyrrhic victory.
Air: Vibrating from fire, rocket launchers, bullets. A Macbeth quote comes into my mind, "Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."
Rims: Shot off by two .44 Desert Eagle bullets travelling very fast.
Nokiapple Cell Phone: Powering down, transmits: Goodbye, honey. I love you. My wife's voice, air, vibrating, converted into digital waves. I don't think about what this means until later.
Virgin Verizon Cell Phone: Powering down, transmits: Goodbye, honey. I love you. My voice, air, quivering, converted into digital waves.
Virgin Verizon Cell Phone: Powers up, transmits: Conversation, mostly entailing how much I love my wife, and how I'll be back soon, hoping I can see her before it's all over. I'll spare you the details.
Prayer: I pray to God that I may see my wife before it's all over.
My Voice: Air vibrates, insufficient for anyone else to hear, even my bodyguards. I interpret it as, "I love you. I love."
Soma, Chapter 4: Things.
Bullet: Goes through my skin, right on the part where pop kissed me when I was four, a Desert Eagle .44, parting the Red Sea with chunks.
Skull: I feel two Desert Eagles on my head.
Air: Vibrating, interpreted as, I don't know, but it was two to the head bad. A voice in the vernacular.
Air: Vibrating, interpreted as, What'd I do? I ask, knowing. My voice, recognizable.
Hair: Dreadlocks, trying to wipe the tequila, blood, and oil off his head, like a woman, like the woman in the Bible, hoping that begging stops him. So thick it's not liquid. Or was that Jesus? Did Jesus wipe his hair, like a man, or was it the woman? Is that filthy concoction my perfume to this man?
Palm Tree: Explodes, a pyrrhic victory.
Air: Vibrating from fire, rocket launchers, bullets. A Macbeth quote comes into my mind, "Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."
Rims: Shot off by two .44 Desert Eagle bullets travelling very fast.
Nokiapple Cell Phone: Powering down, transmits: Goodbye, honey. I love you. My wife's voice, air, vibrating, converted into digital waves. I don't think about what this means until later.
Virgin Verizon Cell Phone: Powering down, transmits: Goodbye, honey. I love you. My voice, air, quivering, converted into digital waves.
Virgin Verizon Cell Phone: Powers up, transmits: Conversation, mostly entailing how much I love my wife, and how I'll be back soon, hoping I can see her before it's all over. I'll spare you the details.
Prayer: I pray to God that I may see my wife before it's all over.
My Voice: Air vibrates, insufficient for anyone else to hear, even my bodyguards. I interpret it as, "I love you. I love."
posted by Marshall McMahon @ 8:03 PM
1 Comments:
At 12:24 PM,
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