An unseen hand, be it the God of man or the Deity of self, force feeds me steel wool fibers, rasping the soft tissue of my cheeks and tongue. A complex system of saliva, swallow, and speech, bludgeoned into a primordial gobbet of raw inability. If I could only convey…

Emerging from the cavern of self, a steady crawl of joint footed hydraulics, ascending my esophagus, suffocating my airway. Slowing to a stop, and scratching, tearing at, puncturing through the hollow of my throat. Stretching and forcing, the beast steals out the stoma, given in the light an unholy name, and a secondary purpose. To my mouth it creeps, where it silks a Kevlar thread, venomous fangs piercing my lips, as the sharp of the exoskeleton meticulously stitches, a web of silent design. An acursed weave that captures words as they attempt to escape. If I could only conceive…

From the netherabyss of the earth, upon which my stilling body lies, roots of sinew strength break through, instantaneously vining, binding, trussing my body. Thrashing violently, my flesh rips and bleeds, my hair pulls from its scalp, scorching tears of wrath blind my eyes, a rabid foam seeps through the web of my mouth. I am on the verge. A growl of frustration, an urgency for conscience, a chemical combustion of rage and fear, a death rattle of warning…I implode…in a pitch of deafening fury, electricity discharging and glass splintering…I am blinding white light…a phenomenon of disbelief…and from this, I speak…

E.A. O'Connell. November 2018