Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Autophagy*




Picture by alizzzz is stolen from here

I taste like clouds.

The scissor didn't hurt as much as I'd thought. Its point slipped through the fibre of my skin delicately, elegantly. The blades snipped through me almost by its own volition, its jaws opening and closing with unexpected gentleness, separating the threads tenderly.

I taste like clouds.

I look down as the scissors progressed from the base of my belly, moving up and up, all the way to my throat. The blades stopped. My skin separated beneath the pressure of the incision.

I taste like clouds.

Almost immediately my stuffings fell out, like eager children after the bell rang, tumbling out the door that had confined them. My stuffings billowed out like exuberant clouds racing through the sky of a sunny afternoon. It fell out between my paw-feet, pillowy soft. I could feel the pressure within me ease. My knee gave way and I slumped against the wall.

I taste like clouds.

My paw-hand trembled as I scooped up what once gave me form and dimension. It seemed wrong to leave it wasted on the floor. I didn't know what to expect. It was soft and springy, the darker pink contrasted beautifully with the pale shell of my skin.

I taste like clouds.

I squeezed my hand-paw. I thought I'd feel a tug within, but nothing. My stuffing regained its former fluff, with a faint trace of the shape of my palm. The slight breeze from the fan made it quiver. I didn't notice as more spilled out of me, decorating the floor with whimsy.

I taste like clouds.

My stuffing crossed my lips. It was like a blissful sacrament of tenderness and joy. The sweetness was indescribable. It rested on my tongue for an eternity, before my jaws moved slowly, my teeth grinding my stuffing industriously, thoughtfully.

I taste like clouds.

The adults always tell you not to play with scissors, but they don't know what I know now: the scissors were a liberator. I am now free of the weight of my form and function.

I can just be.

I am.

Free.

*Title is taken from the biology term that describes "eating one's self". Cross-posted on writing blog and Facebook.

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