It's called conditioning. Association. To learn how to inch away silently, decidedly, from something by tying it, knotting it tensely to a sense of revulsion. Self-inflicted gag reflex to keep whispering over and over again the same mantra: pick your poison. only one. The bloody tangle of organs in you can only fight one crusade at a time, so pick your enemy.
In drinking away my life my tongue flinched at the almond shaped taste, cyanide superstition that came down in one gulp. Who would've thought I rushed my thirst, tasting disaster flowing down my throat?
Suscribirse a:
Enviar comentarios (Atom)
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario