MIDS

Absentmindedly, you itch the inside of your ear and consequently wipe a thin layer of wax on the screen, maybe you have just missed the small mellow hum pooling out from within your device. It quivers on top of your palm, in front of your eyes, your heat must be evaporating the sound from within. Wax is perfect for preserving the body, it details all the cracks and crevices integrated into your DNA. You occupy the screen as much as I do, but I will look beyond your seeping fluids if you look beyond mine, for they are both equally as grotesque. Mine are somewhat illusory - fabricated if you will, yours are very much disgusting. The lady with dirt under her nails is peering at you, she sits patiently beside you as the light fades out. It gets dark, it gets silent, you are midway through a film when you feel popcorn spitting on your knee. It takes you until the end of the film to realise it is not popcorn but nails. Nails gnawed into the shape of gardening tools, ready for pruning. Dirt is on you, did you eat one? Is the dirt inside? It is within the time you blinked that she takes her opportunity to slide from underneath the blanket of muted voices and small mellow hums, vanishing like thin wax on a screen.