Sunday 6 July 2014

Flailing Mess.

You know what my deepest-darkest secret is?
It's not that I murdered and a hid a body in a chest that everyone thinks is a dinner table.
It's about how I'm that greedy, fat kid who's stuffing its face with chocolate cake in the kitchen at 2am when everyone's asleep. Stuffing its face with ham-fisted movements, head shoved into the cake box, chocolate frosting smeared all around the lips, licking it rapidly every minute or so, bending over with her back to you, with over-sized hips bulging out in her one-size-too-short jeans, and thin strands of hair getting into the face and between chocolate stained teeth. That greedy, fat, kid with sky-rocketing blood sugar levels, cheeks reddening with the spike, and watery, red eyes, and gluttony hanging on to the double chin and layers of fat on the wrinkly neck, as she burps repulsively leaving her heavy chest wobbling.