The minute I meet her eye, I can tell she’s gonna let something out. There’s crazy wafting off her like cartoon stink lines. ‘Poisonous being,’ she yells. The elocution is sharp despite being parsed through the hanky clasped to her face. I shouldn’t be mad but she’s pressed her prejudices into an open wound and the sting makes me yell. Fuck you, cunt. Under the self-induced surprise, it feels good to vocalise. ‘No,’ she barks back. ‘Fuck you, poisoning the earth.’ I give her the finger with futile juvenility and walk away, my body still vibrating with rage.
Nic Addenbrooke is a freelance writer, editor, content creator, radio broadcaster, part-time poet and sometimes artist. Nic has been coming to terms with existence for years. He currently lives and works in Brisbane where he struggles to turn the cacophony of voices in his head into things of substance. It doesn’t always work but occasionally produces a nice veneer of sanity.
15/12/2015 at 03:04
I’m not sure how I stumbled upon this, but I’m fascinated.
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