Seth and the preacher

 

Reality Psychosis
Seth (the boyfriend of my friend Olivia) and I walked into the ante-room of Mr. Haseltine’s office, where we have hung out several times.  He wanted to go to Columbia and be a pediatrician.  He was an NMSQT semi-finalist.  He locked the door and turned out the lights. A cloudy figure in a big white lab coat floated in, locked the big oak door, turned out the light. The room turned to browns and blacks in a smeary way.
Seth sat me down in the middle of the room and bent over kissing me.  I became rigid, stock still. The lab coat turns into the white-robed Preacher from a play I had seen with a rape scene: Dark of the Moon.  The Preacher was played by one of my best friends, Bob, who had laughed over the rape while holding up his white preacher robes up.
Seth forced his tongue on my lips and into my mouth.  I was disgusted and shocked.  His tongue was massive and hard, searching for something in my mouth.  His hand was around my neck. A giant redwood comes in and out of my mouth as I sit frozen.  The roots and trunk go in and out, the branches coming towards me, leaving me.
His hands slide from my neck down my body, inside of clothes, opening buttons with a squish.  My body won’t move; my mouth won’t make a sound. My skin turns red, then black, in the places he touches me.  There are swirls and hand prints.  The black gets charred and geometrical, like the remains of a log the morning after a fire.  Dry pieces fall off.
My friend Bob, the Preacher from the play, unlocks the door and pops his head in.  He looks at me half-dressed with censure.  He leaves. The Preacher flies over again,  The redwoods assault my mouth.  The skin falls off me in blacks cubes of char.
Seth stands up and rubs his pelvis back and forth against my arm. My arm turns white with leprosy and falls off.  I flail the stump of my arm in hopes someone will come and help.
Seth stands back and sighs deeply.  He adjusts his pants, buttons me up and adjusts my princess collar.  I don’t remember any more. The world turns to only colors, no texture, depth or shape.  The colors drip down on top of each another, angry reds and yellows, mocking blues, and browns and blacks.  The colors drip down until I can only see the brown of the locked door in front of me and it all begins again.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s