Join My Cult - Original Falcon Press

“…I feel as if I’m slipping into a dream within a dream…” The music
continued to play. Multicolored lights dancing off of the black lacquered
floor, swimming around the dancers. Everyone dancing, watching others
watch them. I’m pretty, see? Look at how pretty I am. Sewer screw me
like an animal, bitch.
Atlast shrugged?
“You’ll never be free.” Who said that? Who heard?
The department of insecurity sends a reply a few days later: What I
once thought was a golden cage has turned out to be steel after all. Just
a cheap electroplate. I scratched through to the core. Control of my life
has passed out of my hands.
She goes to a place she knows it is best not to explore. Peel back the
skin. Flashes of hallucinations from before she had the word for them.
She didn’t realize that it was real. She had hoped it wasn’t.
When she was little she had a distended belly / beer gut / she was a
chunky girl / briefly anorexic hollow belly never fit. Thinbelly hollowspot.
Nihil fit.
“Never be free, unless…unless…”
Epistemological wonder. Give me your benediction. Apostle.
Enforced with the biggest guns. A pistol. What’s under that dress?
Three of the women approach from the edge of the circle, their skin
glittering silver in the light, paralyzing me with their hungry, emerald
eyes. My hands were bound behind my back with what felt like silk rope.
Everything became a blur. There was hysterical laughter, bright
pastel trails hanging in the air like confetti. One of them produced a wine
bottle, another held a clear glass aloft. Red liquid rushed into its container,
and the three of them exclaimed “Evohe!” simultaneously. All
three holding the glass, they pulled my head back by my hair and poured
it slowly into my waiting mouth. Incredibly flavorful, dry wine burned as
it went down. I was left with an aftertaste of flowers and earth. Trickles
of it ran down my chest, tickling me.
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