Taster's Choice

Soft totems stand beside. As night blooms under my skin. Drilling its images into palest flesh. Painted faces to represent the ones we don't show.

Not even to ourselves.

I used to ask questions. Untuck those wrinkledwings. Tug on that stubborn switch until the light would show.

They always would say you think too much. And I'd just shrug and wonder how you can ever think enough. Out on these oceans so vast without a boat. Can you swim too far, though you're nowhere near land, simply because you'll never get there? Is that what they meant?

It was different then. I'd look at the sky and see the possibility of flight. I'd look at the road and see all the places it could take me. Back when this skin wasn't so heavy yet and people were a delicacy I was still content only sampling.

Like rare wines you never swallow. Just taste and then spit out. You want the flavor, but not the effect of that beautiful poison.