Tied Together

I return to my home somewhat on the verge of exhaustion after one more outing of good hunting because I had to walk quite a bit in the dark to fulfill my objective. Prey seems to be easier to catch at night. I'm glad, you can see that on my face because I can't stop smiling at the happiness that invades me, it could even squeeze me to the point of bleeding.

"Bleeding is good, people who are alive bleed ..."

I remove my shoes brushing off the stains on it next to that mess of dirt and water. There was a very strong storm, that's why the preys were unable to escape. I lift my right boot, it has mud everywhere. I don't want to soil the place, no more than it already is. I unload my collection carelessly near the unrecognizable leftovers of the last days. It starts to stink.

"I must clean"

The mirror next to me draws my attention, I stand in front of it. I outline dark circles under my eyes, they are terribly dark; my lips are split from the lack of water; Even my hair is a bit messy, not to mention I don't brush it. It hurts when I do.

"I'm such a beautiful person"

The scent of those stinky leftovers from my past meals flows through my entire system through my fine nose, upsetting my balance. It makes me angry. I have a tic that causes my head to tilt, leading my jaw in the opposite direction when I get upset. The stink continues. I remember what they all tasted like but I can't tell which is which. One was possibly a puree, some not-so-fresh meat, bones, even some guts. It fills me, transporting me to idyllic places of my memory.

More exactly: back to that day.

"I need to try it"

And so do I. I go back to that place taking a bit of that somewhat dull and foul-smelling red mash but when tasting it none of that matters. That good flavor is still there, my tongue perceives it causing in me that inevitable tingling in my crotch. I can't stop. But my brain, to the beat of a slight burning stops me when my teeth bite my hand. 

"It doesn't taste the same"

I lick my fingers, sucking on them to remove what remains of that juicy delicacy. I even go back to where I was to mix my hands over it. I do it fiercely, so there's nothing left. I bring my palms back to my mouth and frenzily lick my skin attracting that taste to my taste buds. I repeat it until the pleasant trace of the mash disappears. The tic's gone.

I turn around to resume my activities, now that I have eaten I want to play something. I run into two jars in front of me. I greet them, they are my friends. They are four beautiful jewels that I got as a gift on my last trip, not the one I just returned, I mean the one from three moons ago. That day.

I look them up watching them dance inside the jars that I tilt from left to right; from right to left and vice versa. I'm really enjoying it.

After saying goodbye to my treasures with total sadness because it always hurts me to have to say goodbye, I go to the old rectangular wooden table located on one side sitting on one of its two chairs. It squeaks when I lean into it. The tic hits back.