Random thread..

[Rebus]

For pieces of poetry, prose, art, lyrics you're unsure of or you'd like folk to read:

[Rebus]

Bzz


They buzz around him. Weaving shapes and sounds. Silent and intricate. Bzzz. The kettle is boiling and he can feel them looking at his work while he's turned away. Shoo. Mine. Not yours. Mine.
They're here you know he says.
Really?
Yes he replies.
Everywhere?
Yep
Who are they?
Does it matter?
I would think so. It does to me.
I can't tell you
Why not?
That would be acknowledging their existence. Acknowledging my madness y'see.
Well there's something you ought to know that I would have thought was pretty obvious.
What?
I'm not real. I'm not here
Ah.

Bzzz

[Rebus]

It would be much easier if women were liquid he thinks. It would be much easier to relate to them. Like the cold bottle of Corona he holds in his hand he would get on fine, nothing to worry about except the act of consumption. Then they'd be trapped inside, nowhere to hide, nowhere to go except swirling around and around.
He sits at the bar watching the women swathed in neon and wishes he could drink them all.