It’s warm in here. Inconspicuous enough to go unsuspected. Still warm enough to unsuspectingly piss you off. I was sitting on my knees-- I had to reposition because sweat smothered the backs of my calves.
But I'm sitting by the window, leisurely digesting my food coma, gazing outside with a surprising amount of contentment considering that it’s warm in here. The green smiles back at me
am I paranoid to suspect that I’m the frog in the lukewarm pot?
A dragonfly perches motionless on my windowsill. Nature is serenity’s mockery-- somebody scoff at how the leaves act so unbothered by this heat. Passive. Easy, quiet, beautiful,
Dominatable… We chop trees down then plant little flowers in our planters. They consent and sway to our will until we are swayed into a reluctant unwillingness to survive without them.
The green swirls and sprawls over you, innocuous, its gorgeous Italian vines suffocating your veins and arteries, awakening your sinuses until it pauses right underneath your scalp, numbing you in the permeating lukewarm until suddenly your eyes open and
your flesh sears white under the tip of your upturned nose. Delicate green softens the burning smell. You gracefully submit, contort yourself from an upright position until your fingers grasp for each sweaty Achilles heel.
It’s hot in here. Don’t own yourself, owe yourself-- it would do you good to behave well and say yes as you’re told. You like it. Yes, that was an order-- but it’s okay, green gave it. It feels good to say yes. Yes, that was an order-- but it’s okay, green gave it.
Does he like it? Be serene, just sit still, it’ll be over soon. Appreciate the numbness. It’s okay, he asks if you’re okay so tell him you’re okay-- he pushes your head down so be a good girl.. Yes, that was an order-- but it’s okay, green gave it.
You’ll bruise his feelings if he thinks you didn’t enjoy it so just keep quiet, beautiful. Is the heater on? There’s steam on the windows.
Leave your keys at the counter, look both ways, close the door, press the lock to keep the green out by the doormat. Just make sure to check if the room is empty before you start crying. Mom asks you what you did on your date and the room turns fragrant, reposeful green buoying into the air from underneath the door crack.
“Just went for coffee. It was fun.” A gentle pat on the back as the numbness underneath your scalp throbs
and the leaves rustle outside the window. Mom leaves the room-- green releases its grasp and you gasp for morphine.
foliage, wallflower, pretty and pottable. green: lukewarm, deceptively comfortable
Until suddenly I’m removed from the boiling pot and my legs are served to him, a delicacy on a platter.