a short story

afterlife in a glass of orange juice
a pierce at the centre of my chest

i thought the sounds of the world are not that amazing
and i grew tired of my own reflection on my mobile phone screen

i was an itch that would never go away
the ghost in your grandmother’s picture

and all the while you stay still
soaked in your bathtub

rubadubdub

i like stories
ending with somebody drowning

and smelling good

One thought on “a short story

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