Saturday, 8 November 2008

Fat freewrite

Rippling surfaces, small cascades, my eyes keep focusing on the way the freckles are bouncing up and down when she talks. There's one little freckle just by her right eye, that is like a teetering smartie on a mound of jelly at a childrens party. Yellow jelly, that's been out of the fridge too long and is slightly watery. I have no desire to touch her. I am simply fascinated by the rise and fall of her voluptuous body. The expanse of it makes her breathless every time she stands up. Which I must say is not often.

1 comment:

Thomas said...

I love the contrasts her, fascination and horror, intimacy and revulsion.
This piece is a wonderful slice of dark dark humour.