Silicic Acid

Monday 14th April 2014

It’s grown to enormous proportions. I can see it out of the corner of my eye each time I glance at something without concentrating. In the mirror it confuses me, a mix of red and, is that white? When I press down on it, it’s just all red.

At work I first noticed it, testing out the cameras for the day. Hi-def showed all its shine and that shine was mine. Later, in front of the new kid, I examined it in a mirror. He looks awkwardly around at me so I explained it like it was a new phenomenon. It is.

Just like my greasy hair, ovaries with a multitude of cacophonous voices; a split personality within my womb. My boobs wax, I get weight loss x4,then weight gain x2, then my boobs wane. The full moon brings happiness and real calm, but is brighter and more terrible by the equator.

A boy with a slug of white-green in his nose hesitates as he interrupts my hand at work. I blink away from rubbing out a shadow from a father’s suited crotch.

“ — .” He says.

I wait.

“-, … t- …, -.” He runs away. I saw him eyeball it. It must have summoned and scared him off, like a pulsating beacon of disease.

That night, it came to me in a dream.

“I have the power to control you.

Give yourself to me.

I can make you happiest beyond your dreams.”

Colours flashed red and black, the black moans mournfully and the red curses me with hisses.

“Give yourself to me.”

I wake up and smother it in toothpaste. It burns and I feel sad.

Have you seen this thing on my face, I ask him.

“I like it on your face. It suits you in a cute way.”

“It’s not as noticeable as you might think it is,” says the other.

“Yeah, ew,” says every girl when I jokingly eye it by angling my face upward.