I sometimes try to suck my teeth down my throat. I never succeed, which is good. I don't want to succeed, no one wants to succeed in an endeavor like that. However, I did succeed one time.
This is the story of that one time.
I was looking at my naked body in the mirror trying to figure out how much my butt weighed to tell this girl I met on the internet.
A little bird landed on my shoulder because I was in a park looking at a public mirror. I guessed that my butt weighed 2 and a half pounds.
The girl had asked, but I think that she was only passingly interested in me and saw my breathing, beautiful soul as a mere toy.
The moon was singing through its thick lips and snow was falling from it because that's where snow comes from.
I didn't know what to do. I felt like I had a beef tenderloin of sadness wrapped around my head. There were rap songs playing on the park's radio. I couldn't feel anything.
I wanted it to stop, but it wouldn't stop. I didn't know what to do.
Everyone was looking at me because I was naked. I wished that I had serotonin in my brain.
Together with this sadness was a feeling of being so different from everyone and being an object of scorn. This was why I kept my mouth shut.
I knew that anything that came out of my mouth would just hang there like a stationary comet, cold and lifeless.
The little bird on my shoulder flew away and I was alone again. I knew that I was too afraid to kill myself and I just had to wait out this life.
I wanted to create beautiful stories and share them with people, and I knew that I needed to read to do that,
but everything I read made me feel like I was an inferior artist and that even though I liked my stories better than those stories,
I thought that other people would like my stories less because they expected writers to write like they had above average to remarkably above average intelligence.
I had no such intelligence. I walked over to the mirror which was sewn into a tree and I banged my head on it. It shattered. A conglomerate of birds flew away.
I wanted to tell the girl I was talking to on the internet to eat a raw egg because I hated her. She would probably laugh if I sent her a message telling her that.
She would probably post it on the internet.
I would not see it because she was not a part of my circle of friends, which wasn't really a circle of friends, but more of a group of people I smiled at who smiled at me.
I was a closed circuit. No one could reach me because I was too dead to signal socially.
God, I wanted to jump off a bridge.
No, not jump off a bridge just on its own. I wanted to eat a bunch of hotdogs until I was sick of eating and then jump off the bridge, but not quite.
First, I would mainline the anesthetic they gave me when I was doing shock therapy, and then I'd fall gently off the bridge and into the fluffy cloud of death.
That would be my ideal jump off a bridge.
I was thinking about this when I saw a bunch of naked people come over the hill in the park and I felt self-conscious so I sucked at me teeth really hard because I was afraid of them
and intimidated by them and all my teeth went down my throat. I coughed really hard and reached for my clothes and went to the hospital.
I flew there.