do not eat now

8 She steps out of the station wagon.  Mired in
8 self-pity and obsolescence, she does not hear
8 the fitful mumblings of half-remembered
8 instructions.

                                            Do not eat now.  Tastes like
                                                             licorice.
6 A shadow.  No, a projection.  A distillate, she flows      
6 like a river of newly hatched spiders to the tarpit.       Must not
6 The drops of ichor beading on her forehead.  She is        chew,
6 aroused by them.                                           

1 "Maria?" the wind whispered. "Is that you, Maria?"         bitter,
1 She stomped her left foot, rubbing her head
1 simultaneously, waiting for the distortion to ebb.         early.
1 It is pointless. She will spoil her appetite.              
1 She opens her mouth.
                                                             Must wait.
4 And watches a ghost pass by on the street.
4 Thoughts flow through, familial tendencies.
4 Last weekend - what happened - she has to
4 tell him. No...the veins coil about her
4 feet, water flowing through them, splashing...
 
3 The bull under the tree.  Black fur and flies;
3 dry dead grass.  Earth and fire.  Where is the
3 spark?  It is in her eye, it is between her teeth,
3 sparking like blown wheat.  Bitter red light.
 
8 Her only remaining channel of vision is red, so he,
8 orange in her sight, appears as a warning sign.  Her
8 only mode of interpretation is olfactory, so his
8 orange is tart, stinging.  Her only mode of reaction       Small piece
8 is aghast.                                                 is not a
                                                             vegetable.
2 Failing retinal memories, a dark taste, a scorched
2 taste. She draws her belt more tightly about her
2 waist than it needs be.  She wants to feel the
2 discomfort, the constriction and the sweet pinching        Black in
2 of her flesh in the folds of material. Her left foot       size,
2 kicks at a coin on the ground before her; she refuses
2 to retrieve it.  Her name is in the smoke that sings.      crunchy
                                                             flavor, 
5 There are restrictions on (at) her feet.  There is
5 powder floating, somewhere, floating.  New                 not good
5 arrangements flow and surface and she closes               for you.
5 her eyes and smiles, smiles and closes her eyes. And
5 steps out of the station wagon again.

                                                       Do not eat now.

7 Her eyes dim as she recalls a campfire 
7 gathering... the blood of the snake mixed
7 with holy peyote, and the smell of the
7 vomit as Leonard met, on the other side, 
7 the coyote, leaving her in charge of
7 shipping and receiving for sector eight...
 
6 There is not time.  Not space.  Not domain.  There is
6 folding and spindling, and Leonard the winsome power
6 frosting night trader waits in the lobby.  Lodge of
6 Ham, I would take her now, but the smoke is too thick.
6 I am impeded.

7 She closes the book.

1 The wizened crone grimaces, wrinkling and creasing
1 and spindling, loosening a strand. She
1 beneath burning in cold slumber.

2 With her hands full of stolen hair she beats on the
2 coarse ground, the dry earth, the grain and rhythm
2 of forgiveness. Somewhere deep within her purse she
2 hunts for the matches. A stray pin open in the dark
2 punches through the tip of her ring finger. Her only
2 visual memory is of red and red on red is the unseen.
2 She doesn't remove her hand from the bag to taste the
2 pearling blood. Why wouldn't he burn? Not even his
2 pictures coil to the touch. Matches.

5 Bitter, early.  Must wait.

1 The taste is memorable. Like acrid smoke,
1 like hidden flesh.  Hairy. 
1 She wonders where she can find a
1 toothbrush at this time of night.

9 Her eyes click in electric sockets. Her shredded 
9 insulation mixed in copper hair.                           Not meat,
                                                             not candy, 
5 Noise.
5 Noisome.                                                      not
5 In the middle of the lobby is the genome.                  vegetable
5                               Her generation.
 
4 She grows upward, but is stretched by other hands.
4 There is nothing here of her own making. Odd                 nor
4 things flashing through the sky like eyes,                 mineral.
4 watching her...the eyes belong to someone
4 changed. They change her. They ignore her
4 will, make her something new of their
4 own volition. The air is stale, the light
4 flickers as from a movie...
4 The film continues. She takes another piece.
 
7 Holding the soma under her tongue, she 
7 looks down at her hands.  Her knuckles 
7 have turned white.  She lets go of the
7 steering wheel and steps out of the 
7 station wagon 
7 again.

3 A bad thing; a mixing of elements.  Fire
3 should not grow in the earth.
3 Wrong... but so very, very beautiful.
3 Her tongue is a salamander; 
3 her throat is a rose.
 
4 She follows it...brings arguments home. She
4 is no different...but she looks so, and moves
4 away. There are fights, here, home. The
4 grass is always greener, etc., etc...

3 He was made of white things; cream and ice.
3 He would not burn.
3 She had tried it; he would not burn.
 
8 Arms outstretched, he approaches her, repeating,
8 repeating:
8 
8 		I WANT
8 		TO BE SOMEONE
8 		LIKE SOMEBODY ELSE
8 		WAS
8 		ONCE.
 
2 There are voices with the injections, sub-dermal echoes of the 
2 heat speaking amid the larger muscles. The ears always ring hot
2 with the fluid of balance, tipping lonely into the backwards. A
2 hand keeps her face turned and flush to the cushion, sinking
2 and drowning in the thickening air. Screaming in whispers.
 
                                                  Do not eat now,

6 And it starts again.  The bleeding.  The haunting          and sell
6 music.  The confusion.  The instructions.  The             sour guts
6 compulsion.  The soma.  And she steps out of the           overseas,
6 station wagon.  As a shadow.
                                                             protecting
                                                             you from
                                                             futures.

--
Source 1: boutell
Source 2: lstewart
Source 3: curtis
Source 4: g.w (112a-ak)
Source 5: zvi
Source 6: strychnine
Source 7: sho
Source 8: nj
Source 9 and uncredited
material: billbill

Mix: buzzard