"It's the end of the world," B says. "Better luck now."
I close my eyes, pulling my knees tighter to my chest. Doesn't matter how hard I try, B's legs are always longer than mine. His (and I just say "his" even though he's completely androgynous) furry knees, soggy with the dirty water, scrape against my own. I don't like the texture of him, it sends chills down my spine.
The dirty water in the tub is bubbling, boiling. It's so hot I don't know how either of us can stand it.
"Yes, yes, I know, I know, I know, know," I mumble, hissing at him. I clutch my at my head, pulling on my soaked hair.
"Are you afraid?" B asks.
Time seems to slow. Roaches crawl in and out of the drain, covering me but avoiding B. I don't bother trying to get them off me, I'm used to bugs by now.
"No," I lie. I look up at him, my eyes searching for his. But his eyes are everywhere are nowhere. His body blinks at once.
I can't remember when B started to look like Frank off Donnie Darko. He always looked like a grinning Slenderman, towering seven or eight feet tall. But now since the end of the world was coming, he turned into my very own Frank.
Time speeds up again, but this time it's too fast. Everything around me blurs, and the roaches are now mixed with spiders, biting and crawling up to my face. I open my mouth, and they crawl in. I'm choking on the darkness, wanting to scream but all is silent.
"You should be afraid." B stands up, and the greasy bathtub starts to shake violently. I curl up, covering my head. Roaches and spiders fly everywhere, covering the walls and the
knock knock
B blinks away, and the roaches and darkness and...everything...retreats back to my head.
"Is someone in there with you?" A voice calls from the other side of the locked door. I look around, expecting B to be sitting in the shadows.
I lift my hands out of the cold water. How long have I been in here? The water is clear, not dirty like I thought it was.
"No, no one is here." I saw, and slink down into the tub until my face is underwater. Maybe I'll drown. That's better than the end of the world.
YOU ARE READING
BURN (Wattys2015?)
Poetry"Poetry...is thoughts that breathe and words that burn."--Thomas Gray "Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash." --Leonard Cohen Poems on the tough stuff in life. Poems on the crazy good stuff in li...
