“Oral” Sex

Do you know what I did? I stuck a paper clip into the cavity in my tooth. It was black and smelled of dinner I had over two weeks ago. Have you ever had the reluctancy to feel pain as it radiates through every nerve ending in your body? I did; feeling something as dull as such was a fit punishment. All I did was pull out decayed food that was brown with a tinge of black. I stood in the bathroom, looking at my reflection in the mirror.

I thought to myself, "be you a better woman than I, for what I am is worth less than this stinking seed that sits in the palm of my hand."

It was something other worldly, and in those moments, I felt myself disassociate completely and detach from the present reality. The ramblings of a madwoman began scrawling across the mirror. The glow of each letter was something foreign to my knowledge, and the acute, calligraphical text itself kept me in awe. The paper clip dug deep into the pulp of my tooth, as pain shot down my sciatica and through my toes. The sensation made me want to fall over, but I was halfway between feeling my nerves were on fire and wanting to pass out.

I heard a voice next to me in the mirror, "be your worthless rot in my own palm and my desire to consume that which has been masticated previous."

Suddenly, a man stood next to me and began licking the wounds I carried along the sides of my legs. He was below par in terms of looks and his smell was no better than the rotted food that fell out of my cavity. The pain that traveled down into my feet seemed to stop, and the man made his way around to the front, teasing the idea of giving me oral pleasure. I tugged at his matted hair and yanked him up to me. Like a dog, the subservience was pure ecstasy to watch, but I was more interested in the status of my very sanity. Had I traversed the threshold beyond pain?

I suppose that in my own deprecation I desired nothing more than to make all living things I touch die. I plunged my saliva-coated fingers into his mouth and pried his jaw open. Spit fell from my mouth; the blood that mixed with saliva glistened in fluorescence, and I made this peon swallow my pain. I swore in those moments I thought I saw pieces of old food all onto his tongue. Even if it was my own mind playing tricks on me, I delighted in watching something so vile taint something so sweet. It was like that black-tinged tooth that caused so much irritation, turned his pink tongue a lovely shade of ash. This was masochistic, and the sadist in me wanted to destroy so badly but create simultaneously.

In my destruction, I created a work of art. In this man's dedication to my pain, I created a servant upon which he would eat the food I vomit from my mouth. I looked back at my reflection in the mirror and saw not a man, but a severed cadaver that rested lovingly on my bathroom counter's edge. The face of a man I had never met before looked up at me, but those eyes that once were full of life remained idle, glazed and dead.

And I realized that I was nothing more than an insane woman; I was a murderer, and I was insane with nothing more than the pain of my own rotting infection.