by Karen Kalbacher

Created on: April 25, 2008

Swirl

My mind cracks sometimes at the seams and it spills thick yellow pus and sick viscous burgundy thoughts all over my new rugs. I always needed new rugs. The stains of my bleeding heart were too much to bear. They were everywhere and my husband didn't care. He loved the stains. He lived in the darkest messes, preening. I saw him sitting there impish and I whispered, "Please Joe, I need new carpets."

His breath came out in smoke clouds, blue and stinking of sulfur and rain. No. He was going to say no. I hugged my head and braced myself against the silver tides. He grew to twice his size, a shadow beast against the burgundy thoughts with chartreuse emotions speckling him like an egg. "I'm tired of this shit. You cry, you whine, you want new carpets," he hissed the s' in carpets dragging on for hours. "The carpets are new. I just bought the freaking carpets. No more freaking carpets!"

I was on the floor by his feet. I can't remember how I go here. All the hemorrhaging was so distracting. Things were dancing in rainbows above his head and I couldn't look up at them. I wondered in a detached way if I should have had so much rum with my pills. My eyes were wet, another mystery and my husband's feet were bare enough to smell of rank chicken.

My voice flowed out of me, "I'm sick. Oh honey," I whispered and saw the words sticking to the carpet. Horrified I covered my mouth. "I have problems. I love you. I love you" Meeting his eyes I saw vampires, dark, glittery, and sharp. His mouth fled for his chin and canyons dragged everything down. I wondered if I could love a demon. Because he was a demon with horns of hair spiking up from his boxed foreheadEverything was so confusing. The stains were spreading. A tear spilled off the bottom of my cheek and left a black smudge on the carpet. Oh God, please send new carpets. Please.

My clawed hands traced circles in the air. They hung there like sparkler trails fading slowly. In the background I could hear him in stereo. I could hear him in FM. I could I couldI tilted my head listening, forcing my mind to take his words in and comprehend some of them. It was so hard. I had to make sure the light trails from my hands faded before they touched the carpet.

"And what the hell is wrong with you anyway? Nothing! You got two good arms and two good legs. Why aren't you working? Why aren't you helping us make a better life? Huh? You're just a lazy stupid slut. God Anne, why the hell am I putting up with you? You just lay there during sex

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