MicroHorror

The viscous world heaved violently as its two rulers flailed within the murky depths. Their bodies struggled against one another, striving to control the single life-sustaining tube that had wrapped about them. The stronger prevailed, bubbling in triumph. The weaker, desperate for life, clung tenaciously to his twin. There he waited and withered in quiet hatred. Their creator, oblivious to the titanic struggle, sighed in contentment. Eventually two heartbeats became one and, for a little while, peace reigned again.

My Dearest Diary:
This has been my 5th divorce so the problem must lie within me. But I am
thrilled that I have recognized this and I am looking forward to my 1st session with a therapist.
Love always.

Dear Diary:
My therapist suffers from elephantiasis. It gives him a unique character which I find to utterly fascinating. I find his personal commitment to me and the handling of his disease to be inspirational.
I am overjoyed to be working with him. Will write to you soon.
Love always.

Dear Diary:
After several sessions we realized that I am repressing all my negative feelings. He said that it is not at all healthy and that we will work to correct it immediately. What a joy to know the root of one’s problems.
I left his office full of optimism and renewed vigor.
Your eternal friend.

Dear Diary:
Despite identifying and treating the problem my therapist feels that I have not made much progress. I am not despondent for I heartily enjoy a challenge and meet each hill with a smile. Just the same he believes I will benefit from a medicinal regiment. He says that it will curb my exuberance and allow me to express my baser emotions. This, the Doctor believes, will bring the much needed balance to my life.
What a joy it is to share this with you!

Dear D:
After several days the medication seems to be working. Writing these asinine memoirs is a chore I never realized.
Talk to you later, don’t wait up.

Diary:
How are you today? Really? I don’t give a #@*+

DD:
I am pissed at myself for being so happy before. Now I know why people hate me. Why couldn’t I have been you instead? It must be nice to be made out of paper and have a pen piss on you every day.
Ps, Nice wrinkles jerk.

D:
The diseased head that has been treating me resembles nothing more than the stupid inkblots he forces me to study. The vague plains of his face congress into only the most vial of images now. God how I hate him. Doesn’t he know he looks like some sick Macys day nightmare?
Sleep well Diary.
Ps, I bet you would burn nicely. Like I said, sleep well.

-
I realize now that this talking balloon animal is the catalyst for all that is wrong in my life. Today I shall pop that grotesque pustule he calls a face. If I’m lucky I’ll get the death penalty. If you’re lucky I’ll get the death penalty.

D:
I did it and I’m glad I did it. If I ever see another face that looks like a “Jenga” game I’ll do it again. The miscreants locked me in a padded cell. No one checks in on me except to give me food. Who’s going to give me my damn pills? It’s been two days already!
Ps, If you’ll excuse me, I have to use the bathroom. On second thought stay with me while I sit and think. I might need you.

DD:
I’m sorry about last week. I know I had toilet paper, it was inexcusable. I’m really feeling bad about the poor Doctor too. I don’t why I did what I did. Sure he was sanctimonious and annoying but so is the rest of the world. Maybe he’s in a better place. I don’t think I am though. They moved me into a new cell and my new roomy is giving me funny looks.

Dear Diary:
It’s been weeks since I’ve written but my room mate has been kept me quite busy. The room is small but that just makes it cozy and the bars make me feel so safe! On the plus side my room mate is very affectionate and while we don’t always get along I know he could never run out on me.
Hahaha Life is wonderful!
I love you old friend, let us never part.

Seduction is an art,
And so is death.
To fan the spark of life,
Until raging flames consume the body.

She died in ecstasy, you know.
Sobbing her thanks,
As her soul burned away like a wick.

I can still feel her now.
A heartbeat unique among millions.

Within the heated flow of her veins,
Had lain the throbbing birth of womanhood.

Untouched!

An unmarked page,
Floating in the rain.
She danced between the drops,
Waiting for my pen to make its mark.

How could I resist,
This island of purity,
In a sea of sin?

The deep longing within her loins,
Given voice through quickened pulse.
It cried out for me,
And I raged in turn,
To cleanse my soul in the waters of this untapped well,
To douse damnation’s fires in this virgin’s red fount.

Gentle, so gentle the pursuit.
A soft smile to mask my fangs,
A caress like silk from razored nails,
A knowing look with earthy promise,

And suddenly, so suddenly,
She was mine!

Fragile little leaf,
Twirling in the wind,
Crying on the edge of eternity,
For the thunderous release of the storm.

Within shadows her flower opened,
Within whispers her petals fell,
Within shivers her womb curdled,
To the cold offal of a dead man’s seed.

Fruitless rite, empty husk, innocent damned.

She seemed familiar.
Did you know her, Abe?

Perhaps your other lambs will bring me peace.