A Terrifying Vision of Death.

If I was a terrifying vision of death and you were a small furry animal, do you think we could ever get along? Assume that I had no choice in the matter. I was born into this world a terrifying vision of death, having nothing more to do with that then you did your own small animal-ness. So here we are. I would like very much to be your friend but every time I approach, you just run away screaming your small-animal scream. I’d cry if I could. Terrifying visions of death don’t come with tear ducts. If you can imagine, even for a moment, a weeping terrifying vision of death I think you’ll understand why. Too beautiful. It would ignite the sky and the world would burn away until there was nothing left but a solitary weeping terrifying vision of death. Now weeping even harder in its new found isolation. So what to do?

I write you a letter. I watch from afar as you read it. In the letter I ask you to leave me a reply in the mailbox when you’re done. I watch as you leave a letter in the mailbox. I wait until nightfall to retrieve it, afraid you may also be watching from afar. I read your letter. It is beautiful. In a small, furry kind of way. So beautiful I want to cry. But of course I cannot.

We go back and forth like this for weeks. I’m always careful to come at different days, always in the early morning before sunrise. I enjoy the letters, they bring me great joy but this is somehow worse than before. Back when I used to chase you away with my terrifyingness. In those days, I was at arm’s length. The distance was great enough to protect me. A terrifying vision of death has tremendously long arms. Now I’m so close I can almost feel your small animal fur against my terrifying skin-like covering


About Chris Michael

Eating guitars since 2009.
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