Sacrifice Is A Black Latex Suit And Tie

There is a black latex suit filled with stuffing beside my bed. Just standing there, really, for long afternoon hours.

Bills are tacked to the walls to keep them from getting lost. They’re difficult to find once the power’s turned off. I admit I have never voted: confusion filing my application to the Selective Service. I tried to drive to Walgreen’s to buy Benadryl for my existential allergies, and spent the day in the driveway listening to NPR. I can’t sleep at night because I get nothing done all day. I can’t do anything during the day because I’m exhausted, nightly staring at a blank ceiling leaves me exhausted. My wife leaves me notes in the freezer each morning, before she leaves for work. She must be suspicious I’ve been hogging her vodka. The notes are to-do lists.

  1. Keep kid alive
  2. Pay bills
  3. Buy health insurance
  4. Finish school
  5. Find work
  6. Don’t quit on me

I let her watch TV all day while I fall in and out of dream-drenched sleep. She stays put – I know she won’t get lost… There is a black latex suit filled with stuffing on the floor, playing dolls with my daughter.

The man is a black latex suit, a featureless creature keeping closets full of dead rats. The rats were allowed to feast on dreams and desires (To prevent these from reappearing through the ends of the rats’ intestinal tracts, the vermin were drowned in bleach). Flies swarm the closet, and this corner of the soul is closed tight.

The black latex suit wore a cap and gown down the graduation aisle.

The black latex suit couldn’t smile at the cake to celebrate anything at all.

The black latex suit finds it hard to speak with the bottom of his throat at the back of his teeth.

The black latex suit has made no mistakes. It understands what is required to fill the plates at the family table.

Strung up on the wall is the black latex doll, for the machinery to use for its pleasure.

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4 comments

  1. Gospel Isosceles · January 12

    Ok but don’t let the Clorox destined rats fatten up on the morsel of you being the next great voice of your generation, of this age. That one’s yours, Mick. And speaking of age, I’m existentially allergic to voting but the symptoms get less intense every time there’s an outbreak.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Mark · January 12

    I don’t know why but your writing is the most perplexing and intriguing to me. I appreciate it nonetheless, and I’d like to fill that suit with air and float it down the river, while I get my own booty juice and quiet room for once.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Sudden Denouement · January 14

    Reblogged this on Sudden Denouement Literary Collective and commented:
    Heartbreaking brilliance from Mick’s Neon Fog

    Liked by 1 person

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