A sign of warmer weather amongst orifice parks and other professional places was seeing more working week whores and corporate predators, in search of capitalist prey, outside of the concrete, glass, and steel terrariums they normally inhabited. It would get me to wonder what nefarious dealings were happening within these companies. Perhaps, it was just with the advent of warmer weather, these creatures came out of hibernation.
They were elegantly sculpted beasts, pressed and starched, with sterilized innards. Getting close enough, I looked into their eyes, the windows to the soul, as the saying goes. Theirs were hollow and dead. Doll's eyes is the medical term. A symptom of brain death. The lights are on but nobody's home, to use another cliche.
In a way, it was kind of frightening...
I'd open up other senses, hoping, sometimes preying, there'd be more. The initial surface assessment was unkind. I could've be wrong.
It never seemed that I was. Scents of plastic and rotten meat. Maggots in the blood. Decay. Were I to have cut one, sewer water would spill from rusted veins. Sad, but not really that surprising.
Had I been so inclined, I'd have inquire if they were metaphysical stillborns. Or try and find out what event hollowed them out, suffocating their ch'i. But chances were I'd have been greeted with a blank stare.
"Kangaroo?" One might've replied.
It's okay, I knew what I was on about...
Sometimes you terrify me.
ReplyDeleteHorrific, but brilliant post.
I get that a lot from girls. Odd.
ReplyDeleteThank you, though.
I recognise this feeling. I have watched from afar the plodding resignation of rush hour latecomers and the apathetic moments of the lost workaholics at lunch times. To think that there is something that drains the core out of people so thoroughly is scary.
ReplyDeleteScary, but thoroughly plausible, I think.
ReplyDelete