Something I wrote while I was away.
He held his hand over the range top's flame and watched as his flesh pealed away from the bone.
He could still smell the sickly sweet cooked meat.
He could taste the blood and sweat steaming out of his fried, dried chunks of finger.
But he could barely remember what pain felt like.
It seemed like such a deal.
Who needs a peripheral nervous system when you can have commercial free radio stream into your brain for only $9.95 a month.
just another bit of fast fiction I've been meaning to post but haven't and probably the closest to poetry I'll ever voluntarily right.
He could still smell the sickly sweet cooked meat.
He could taste the blood and sweat steaming out of his fried, dried chunks of finger.
But he could barely remember what pain felt like.
It seemed like such a deal.
Who needs a peripheral nervous system when you can have commercial free radio stream into your brain for only $9.95 a month.
just another bit of fast fiction I've been meaning to post but haven't and probably the closest to poetry I'll ever voluntarily right.